CHAPTER I.

THE REFORMATION IN EUROPE

IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

VOL. VIII.

NOW COMPLETED.

D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation, in the Sixteenth

Century. 5 vols. =6.00=

D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation in the Time

of Calvin. 8 vols. =16.00=

'D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation is in all respects one

of the grandest literary and historical works of this or any

age. The author's brilliant genius imparted to its pages all

the fascination of a romance, while his research, study, and

sound judgment have invested it with an authority that has

stood the test, in its most important parts, of more than a

quarter of a century's criticism.'--N. Y. OBSERVER.

'Thirty years have now passed since we read in our student

days the first three volumes which the Carters had just

brought in an American dress. The name of D'Aubigné was soon

on every tongue. The same clear, forcible style characterizes

this latest volume, albeit maturer and richer, the same love

for the Gospel, and the same grasp of the truth of history.

The new generation, in whose presence Rome is demanding, that

the world shall move backward three hundred and fifty years,

may do well to study the volumes of this author.'--NORTH

CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE.

'D'Aubigné is a clear, incisive writer, and all of his

assertions are supported with copious notes that make the work

invaluable for controversial purposes. As a simple, historical

narrative it is unequalled.'--CHRONICLE.

'Many of our readers will remember the real pleasure and

profit with which they read the History of the Reformation

as it first appeared from the pen of Dr. D'Aubigné. He had a

new style, making every scene and character so lifelike and

striking as to impress the great points upon the mind, and

impress the reader for life.'--CHRISTIAN INSTRUCTOR.

'There is a fascination about D'Aubigné's style that has

given to his work an uncommon popularity. While he is master

of the art of expression, he has entered so fully into the

spirit of the great struggle he records, and has so completely

identified himself with the efforts and aims of its heroic

leaders, as to add to the narrative of the historian, the

enthusiasm of a chief actor in the scene.'--EPISCOPAL

METHODIST.

'Dr. Merle d'Aubigné has earned the first place among the

French historians of the Reformation.'--PROF. BONIFAS.

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

NEW YORK.

HISTORY

OF THE

REFORMATION IN EUROPE

IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

BY THE

REV. J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNÉ, D.D.

TRANSLATED BY

WILLIAM L. R. CATES,

JOINT AUTHOR OF WOODWARD AND CATES'S 'ENCYCLOPÆDIA OF CHRONOLOGY,'

EDITOR OF 'THE DICTIONARY OF GENERAL BIOGRAPHY,' ETC.

'Les choses de petite durée ont coutume de devenir fanées, quand

elles ont passé leur temps.

'Au règne de Christ, il n'y a que le nouvel homme qui soit

florissant, qui ait de la vigueur, et dont il faille faire cas.'

CALVIN.

VOL. VIII.

HUNGARY, POLAND, BOHEMIA. NETHERLANDS.

GENEVA. DENMARK, SWEDEN, NORWAY.

NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

530 BROADWAY.

1879.

CAMBRIDGE:

PRESS OF

JOHN WILSON AND SON.

ST. JOHNLAND

STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,

SUFFOLK CO., N. Y.

PREFACE.

[Illustration]

With this volume we complete the publication of the work of M. Merle

d'Aubigné on the history of the Reformation. The ten volumes published

by the author himself and the three posthumous volumes are the fruit of

his long labors, begun in 1817, and continued almost uninterruptedly

until 1872.

It was in 1817, immediately after his ordination to the ministry,

and in the course of a visit to Germany undertaken to perfect his

theological studies, that M. Merle d'Aubigné conceived the project

of writing this history. Germany was at that time celebrating at

Eisenach the third centenary of the Reformation. The people were in

a state of great excitement. Humiliated by long-continued oppression

and irritated by severe suffering, Germany, which had so long been the

theatre and the victim of the sanguinary wars of the Empire, had at

length risen with an impetuous energy and a fervor of feeling which

were irresistible, and had powerfully contributed to the overthrow of

the imperial warrior who had appeared to be invincible. Rescued thus

from foreign rule, she had fallen again under the equally heavy yoke of

her former masters; and she was now turning her eyes towards Luther,

the spiritual liberator of modern times. The reformer's name was on

every tongue; and Merle d'Aubigné encountered on his way the crowds of

young German students who were journeying to the Wartburg. On the eve

of the celebration he felt an overpowering desire to take part in it.

He therefore followed the throng, and after travelling all night came

at daybreak within sight of the castle famous as the scene of Luther's

confinement. A novel spectacle here presented itself. The squares and

streets of Eisenach were filled with a motley crowd, chiefly composed

of young men. Their long hair falling upon their shoulders, their

thick, untrimmed beards, their velvet cloaks reaching to the knees,

their caps adorned with feathers or foliage, their broad embroidered

collars, their banner proudly borne aloft, surrounded by its defenders

who, with outstretched arms and drawn swords, formed its bodyguard, the

name of Luther the while resounding in all directions--this spectacle,

the antique costumes, the usages of a by-gone age, all contributed to

transport the traveller in imagination into the midst of the scenes of

three centuries ago.

The young Genevese, however, soon withdrew from these noisy scenes,

from the political and social harangues, the excitement and the tumult.

Longing for quiet, he traversed with a guide the deserted rooms of the

castle.

'This then,' he murmured, 'this is the place where, after the stormy

scenes of the Diet of Worms, Luther was able to say, "At last I am at

rest." Here was passed the captivity of the knight George. This is the

table at which he used to sit; that the window from which he looked

out upon the landscape around. Here it was that he gave himself up

to profound meditation, mingled with regret that he had consented to

withdraw from the battle-field, and with a distressing fear lest the

Pope should take advantage of his absence to crush the infant Church.

In this room he used to read the Bible in Hebrew and in Greek; here

he translated the Psalms and the New Testament, and here his fervent

prayers rose to heaven.'[1] The great movement of the sixteenth century

thus presented itself to the young man's imagination in its intimate

details, which are far more thrilling than its external aspects. He

formed the resolution to write its history; and a few weeks later

(November 23, 1817) he sketched in the following terms the plan which

he proposed to follow:--

'I should like to write a history of the Reformation. I should wish

this history to be a work of learning, and to set forth facts at

present unknown. It should be profound, and should distinctly assign

the causes and the results of this great movement; it should be

interesting, and should make known the authors of the transformation

by means of their letters, their works, and their words; and it should

introduce the reader into the bosom of their families and into their

closets. Finally I should wish that this history should be thoroughly

Christian, and calculated to give an impulse to true religion. I would

show by the evidence of facts that the aim of the Reformation was not

so much to destroy as to build up--not so much to overthrow that which

was in excess, superstition, as to impart that which had ceased to

exist, the new life, and holiness, the essence of Christianity, and to

revive or rather to create faith. I shall begin to collect materials,

and I will dedicate my history to the Protestant churches of France.'[2]

Thus, in his youthful dreams, did the pious descendant of the

refugees of the sixteenth century sketch out the leading features

of the monumental work, to the execution of which he thenceforward

uninterruptedly devoted himself. At this day when, by means of many

collections, innumerable documents relating to the Reformation have

been placed within the reach of all, it is not easy to imagine the

amount of labor and research which it cost Merle d'Aubigné to enter as

he did into intimacy with the reformers and to master their most secret

thoughts. Eighteen years had passed away before he was prepared, in

1835, to present to the public the first volume of his work.

In a preface worthy of the subject, he said:--'It is not the history of

a party that I purpose writing; but the history of one of the greatest

revolutions that was ever wrought in the condition of the human race;

the history of a mighty impulse imparted to the world three centuries

ago, the results of which are still universally recognized. The history

of the Reformation is not identical with the history of Protestantism.

In the former every thing bears the impress of a regeneration of

humanity, of a social and religious transformation which has its source

in God; while in the latter we too frequently observe a considerable

falling away from first principles, the action of party spirit,

sectarian tendencies, and the stamp of petty personalities. The history

of Protestantism might possess interest for Protestants alone; the

history of the Reformation is for all Christians, nay, rather for all

men.'

We are thus made acquainted by the author's own statement with the

purpose which he had conceived; and it is for the reader to judge how

far that purpose has been accomplished. This judgment has indeed been

already pronounced. It declares that the work of Merle d'Aubigné,

everywhere learned and accurate, animated and attractive, approaches

in some passages the very perfection of literary art. Amongst these

passages are the pleasant and lively pages in the first volumes devoted

to the youth of Luther, and in the posthumous volumes the chapters of

a more serious and severe character devoted to Calvin and his work at

Geneva.

Little is wanting to the completion of the monument erected by Merle

d'Aubigné. It is to be regretted that we can not follow John Knox in

Scotland, or Marnix in the Netherlands, to the full accomplishment of

their work. In these countries the temple door is closed before us just

as our feet are pressing the threshold. To complete his history the

author would have required two more years of life and of labor; and

this was denied him. Every thing, however, that is essential to the

history of the Reformation is narrated in these thirteen volumes.

Those portions of the work which have been most recently published are

not in all cases the latest written. Some of them were written long ago

and have never been retouched. It is not to be supposed that the author

would have published these without alteration. M. Merle d'Aubigné's

method of procedure in composition was as follows:--First, he would

make a summary study of an important period, and rapidly sketch its

history; next, he would refer to the original sources, collecting

around him all the documents which he could discover, and sometimes

making a long journey for the purpose of consulting a manuscript

preserved in some library. He would then plunge again into his theme,

familiarizing himself thoroughly with its form and its color, so as

to make it real and present to his mind, and see it as it were with

his own eyes. And, finally, he would rewrite the story, completing and

giving life to his narratives, and depicting the scenes for the reader

as he had already done for himself. The result of this process was an

entirely new work.

A third and even a fourth recasting was not seldom undertaken before

the author was satisfied: so vast and so complex was that spiritual

movement which he had undertaken to describe, so numerous and almost

inexhaustible were the documents of all kinds which he continued to

examine throughout his life.

Some of the later chapters, and particularly that which relates to

Germany, had not been subjected to this revision. The editor, however,

has not felt himself at liberty to suppress these chapters, both on

account of their intrinsic value, and because they contain information

not accessible to general readers. We hope that they will be read with

interest and profit.

The editor wishes here to express his thanks to Mr. Cates for his

valuable assistance as translator of the last three volumes of the work

into English.

The editor has now fulfilled what he considers a duty to the Christian

public, by presenting to them this last volume of a work the

composition of which was not only the principal occupation, but also

the principal enjoyment of 'the noble life, consecrated to toil,'[3] of

J. H. Merle d'Aubigné.

NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR.

[Illustration]

This closing volume of the 'History of the Reformation' is enriched

with a fac-simile of the famous Indulgence issued by Pope Leo X., the

sale of which by Tetzel in Germany, in 1517, provoked the bold and

memorable denunciation of the traffic by Luther in the ninety-five

theses which he affixed to the church door of Wittenberg. The

fac-simile is taken from a copy of the Indulgence very recently

acquired by the Trustees of the British Museum. So far as is known, no

fac-simile has been published before, nor has any previously printed

copy possessed the merit of complete accuracy. It has therefore been

thought worth while to place an absolutely exact reproduction of so

important an historical document within reach of the readers of Merle

d'Aubigné's work, although, by the accident of its recent acquisition,

it can only appear in the last instead of the first volume, its most

appropriate place.

At the request of the publishers an interesting statement has been

contributed illustrative of one passage in the Bull of Indulgence

hitherto somewhat obscure but of remarkable significance. (See

_Appendix_.)

A General Index to the eight volumes of this series--_The Reformation

in the Time of Calvin_--has been specially prepared by the Translator

for the English Edition; and it is hoped that this Index will be found

sufficiently copious, detailed, and accurate.

CONTENTS

OF

THE EIGHTH VOLUME.

[Illustration]

PAGE

PREFACE v

BOOK XIV.

THE SPANISH MARTYRS.

CHAPTER I.

THE AWAKENING IN SPAIN.

(1520-1535.)

Torquemada--The _Alumbrados_--Lutheran Books in Spain--John

d'Avila--The secret of his eloquence--His manner of speaking

of the Saviour--His pastoral activity--His influence over St.

Theresa--Sancha de Carile--Agitation of men's minds--The first

Spanish Reformer, Rodrigo de Valerio--His conversion--His

asceticism--His study of the Scriptures--John de Vergara and

his brothers--A Theological Disputation--Peter de Lerma--His

departure from Spain--Departure of Louis of Cadena--Pursuit of

John d'Avila--Alfonso Virves--His imprisonment--His rescue from

the Inquisition by Charles V. 1

CHAPTER II.

REFORMATION AND INQUISITION.

Rodrigo de Valerio--John Egidius, a scholastic

preacher--Valerio and Egidius--Conversion of Egidius--Trial

and release of Valerio--Eloquence of Egidius--Ponce de la

Fuente and Vargas--Intimacy of the Three Friends--Their

harmonious activity--Uncontroversial preaching--Their

influence--Opposition--Advance of Spiritual Religion--Eloquence

of Ponce de la Fuente--Desire of Charles V. to hear

him--Attached to the Emperor's household--Death of

Vargas--Egidius left alone at Seville--Condemnation of Rodrigo

de Valerio--His Death in Prison 21

CHAPTER III.

SPAIN OUT OF SPAIN.

(1537-1545.)

The Three Brothers Enzinas--Their character and their

studies--Their friendship with George Cassander--Their reading

of Melanchthon's Works--Francis Enzinas--Translation of New

Testament--Friendship with Hardenberg--Letter to Alasco--Visit

to Paris--James Enzinas--A martyr at Paris--Heroism of Claude

Lepeintre--John Enzinas--Conversion and zeal of San Romano--His

Letters to Charles V.--His arrest--His indignation--His

release--Journey to Ratisbon--Interviews with the

Emperor--Second arrest--In the Emperor's suite--His sufferings

and his steadfastness 38

CHAPTER IV.

PRESENTATION OF SPANISH NEW TESTAMENT TO CHARLES V.

BY ENZINAS.

(1542-1545.)

Enzinas at Louvain--The Spanish New Testament--Enzinas

at Antwerp--The Printing begun--Debates on the

Title--Completion of the Work--Pedro de Soto, Confessor

to Charles V.--His instigation to persecution--Abuse of

the Confessional--Dedication of Enzinas's Work to the

Emperor--Enzinas at Brussels--His feeling in the Emperor's

presence--Presentation of the Spanish New Testament to

the Emperor--Reply of Charles V.--The Book submitted to

the judgment of De Soto--Enzinas in the Convent of the

Dominicans--The Doctrines of De Soto--Treason--A Snare--The

Mask dropped by De Soto--Argument of Enzinas--Excitement

in the Convent--Arrest of Enzinas--His Dejection in the

Prison--Consoled by Giles Tielmans--The Examination--The

Defence--Intercession--Spiritual Consolations--A Preacher in

Bonds--Hopes deceived--A Horrible Persecution--The Queen's

Chaplain--His Trial and Flight--Escape of Enzinas--The walls

of Brussels cleared--His arrival at Mechlin--At Antwerp--A

legend--Another legend--Correspondence with Calvin--Enzinas

at Wittenberg--James Enzinas at Rome--His arrest, trial, and

condemnation--His martyrdom--Grief of Francis 58

CHAPTER V.

FANATICISM AND BROTHERLY LOVE. JUAN DIAZ.

(1545-1547.)

Studies of Diaz at Paris--His friendship with James

Enzinas--Visit to Geneva--Representative of the Reformed at

Ratisbon--Meeting with

Malvenda--Discussions--Threats--Denunciations--Alonzo Diaz

in Germany--His interview with Malvenda--Discovery of his

brother's place of refuge--Intercourse between the two

brothers--Hypocrisy of Alonzo--Fratricide 99

CHAPTER VI.

SPANIARDS IN SPAIN.

(1534-1542.)

Bartholomew Carranza--Don Domingo de Roxas--Confession

of the True Doctrine by de Roxas--Augustine Cazalla--Don

Carlos de Seso--The Marchioness of Alcagnices--Carranza's

Progress--The Reformation spread by his Books--Carranza,

Primate of Spain--His imprisonment--San Romano in Spain--Led

to execution--His glorious death--The Martyrs of the

Reformation--Death of San Romano not fruitless--Growing

boldness of the Evangelicals 112

CHAPTER VII.

QUEEN JOANNA.

(Born 1479-Died 1555.)

A shameful Captivity--Joanna's Youth--Her Marriage--Her

Opposition to the Catholic Rites--Isabella's Scheme for

excluding her from the Throne--Intrigues of Ferdinand--Meeting

of Ferdinand and Philip--Conspiracy of the two Princes--Death

of Philip--A Mournful Journey--Confinement of Joanna

at Tordesillas--Her aversion to Romish Ceremonies--Ill

treatment--Bitter Complaints--Was Joanna a Lutheran?--Her

Christian Death--A Victim of the gloomiest Fanaticism 126

BOOK XV.

ENGLAND.

CHAPTER I.

THE THREE PARTIES WHICH DIVIDED ENGLAND.

(1536-1540.)

Birth of Edward VI.--Death of the Queen--A new wife sought by

the King--Relations of Henry VIII. with the Swiss--English

students in Switzerland--A Letter to Calvin--Works of Swiss

Theologians--The King's opinions on these Works--Reginald

Pole--Made Cardinal--Legate beyond the Alps--Anger of Henry

VIII.--Pole in France and Belgium--Failure of his Mission--His

return to Rome--German Divines in England--Protracted

discussions--Ill-will of some of the Bishops--Fruitless

attempts at conciliation--Departure of the German

Doctors--Melanchthon's Letter to Henry VIII. 140

CHAPTER II.

HENRY VIII. SUPREME HEAD OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH.

(1538.)

Gardiner--His return to England--Instigation to

persecution--Sampson, Bishop of Chichester--A Conspiracy

against the Reformation--A return to old usages--The Minister

John Nicholson--His Treatise on the Lord's Supper--His Appeal

to the King--Appearance before the King--Examination--His

Confession of Evangelical Doctrine--His resolute Declaration on

the Sacrament--Cranmer's Answer--The King's anger--Nicholson

condemned to be burnt--His Execution--Flatteries addressed to

the King 158

CHAPTER III.

THE SIX ARTICLES.

(1538-1540.)

Negotiations for the King's Marriage--Their failure--Printing

of the Bible at Paris--The Printing stopped--Completion of

the Work in London--Divisions--Attempted Compromise--Its

failure--The King's fears--The Six Articles--Cranmer's

Opposition--Latimer's Resignation of his See--The King's

advances to Cranmer, Cromwell, and Norfolk--Cranmer's

Time-serving--Five Hundred sent to Prison--Feeling

in Germany--The Articles condemned at Wittenberg and

Geneva--Melanchthon's Letter to the King of England--The King

appeased--Puerile Games 174

CHAPTER IV.

HENRY VIII. AND ANNE OF CLEVES.

(1539-1540.)

Anne of Cleves--Praises uttered of her--Her simple

character--Her arrival in England--The King's

disappointment--His desire to get rid of her--His fear

to break off the engagement--The Marriage celebrated at

Greenwich--Henry's Complaint to Charles V.--Ill-will of

Charles--The King's distrust--Preaching of the Gospel

ordered by Cromwell--Gardiner's Sermon--Barnes's Sermon--His

boldness--His imprisonment--Numerous editions of the Bible 192

CHAPTER V.

DISGRACE AND DEATH OF CROMWELL, EARL OF ESSEX.

(1540.)

Cromwell threatened--Loaded with honors by the King--The

King's intention--The King's letter to Cromwell--Arrest

of Cromwell--Foolish charges--The real motive of the

blow--Cromwell abandoned by all his Friends--Defended by

Cranmer alone--Cranmer's Letter to the King--The Bill of

Attainder--Heresy--The Accuser--No Trial--The Examination--The

Bill carried in both Houses--Condemnation--Cromwell's Letter

to the King--The King's hesitation--Catherine Howard--The

Queen sent away--Cromwell on the Scaffold--His profession of

Faith--His Confession and Prayer--His Death--His Character 205

CHAPTER VI.

DIVORCE OF ANNE OF CLEVES.

(1540.)

Singular impartiality--A Procession of Martyrs, three

Evangelists, three Papists--Preparations for Divorce of the

Queen-- A shameful Comedy--The King's hypocrisy--Convocation

of the Clergy--The Marriage declared void--The Divorce accepted

by Anne of Cleves 225

CHAPTER VII.

CATHERINE HOWARD, A CATHOLIC QUEEN.

(1540.)

Marriage of the King with Catherine Howard--His return to

Catholicism--Royal infallibility--Catholic reaction--Bonner,

Bishop of London--A young Martyr--The Prisons filled--The

King praised by Francis I.--Martyrdom of a Reader of

the Bible--Conspiracy against Cranmer--The Archbishop's

firmness--Charges against him--The King's hesitation--His

determination to save him--Cranmer before the Privy

Council--The King's Ring--Cranmer's Enemies confounded--The

King's love for the Queen--Terrible Revelations--Guilt of the

Queen--Cranmer's Visit to her--Frenzy of the Queen--Cranmer's

Emotion--Condemnations and Executions--The Queen Executed--Her

Guilt undoubted--Convocation of the Clergy--A sharp blow

struck at Convocation by Cranmer--Remarkable Progress of the

Reformation 234

CHAPTER VIII.

CATHERINE PARR, A PROTESTANT QUEEN.

(1542.)

Richard Hilles, a London Merchant--His Studies

and Readings--Cranmer's cautious promotion of the

Reformation--Amendment in Doctrine--Catherine Parr--Her

Character--Another Plot against Cranmer--His Forgiveness

of his Enemies--Several Martyrs--Marbeck's English

Concordance--Henry's Complaints against France--His Alliance

with Charles V.--War with France--Sympathies of the

Italians--Persecutors punished 258

CHAPTER IX.

THE LAST MARTYRS OF HENRY'S REIGN.

(1545.)

Session of Parliament--The King's Speech--The Rod and the

Royal School-master--Anne Askew--Her Trial--Examinations--Her

Release--Again Imprisoned--Her steadfastness--Her

Discretion--In Prison--Condemned to be Burnt--A Royal

Proclamation--Anne Askew tortured by the Lord Chancellor--Led

to Execution--Death of the Martyrs--Approaching triumph of

their Doctrines 271

CHAPTER X.

QUEEN CATHERINE IN DANGER OF DEATH.

(1546.)

The Queen's piety--Her rash zeal--Conversations with

the King--The King offended--Conspiracy of the Catholic

Leaders--The King's distrust--A Prosecution ordered--The

Bill of Indictment--The Queen unsuspecting--The Indictment

in her hands--Her Distress--Her Interview with the King--Her

Declaration--Rescue--Astonishment of her Enemies--Her

Forgiveness of them 284

CHAPTER XI.

CLOSE OF THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.

(1546-JANUARY 1547.)

Disgrace of Gardiner--Two Parties at the Court--The Howards

and the Seymours--Ambition of the Howards--Proceedings against

Norfolk and Surrey--The King's impatience--Searches--A

Divided House--Execution of Surrey--Humble Appeal of

Norfolk--Inflexibility of the King--Last Hours of the King--His

Death--His Will--Henry VIII. to be condemned as a Man, a King,

and a Christian 297

BOOK XVI.

GERMANY.

CHAPTER I.

PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION IN GERMANY.

(1520-1536.)

The Reformation a Resurrection--Pretended Unity of Rome--All

kinds of Progress produced by the Reformation--John

Bugenhagen--His Conversion--Named 'Pomeranus'--The

Reformation embraced by German Towns--Magdeburg, Brunswick,

Hamburg--Pomeranus at Hamburg--Lübeck 311

CHAPTER II.

THE PRINCIPALITY OF ANHALT.

(1522-1532.)

The Princes of Anhalt--Duke George--His

Anxieties--His Resolution--Luther's Letter--Prince

Joachim--Würtemberg--Westphalia--Paderborn--Hermann, Elector of

Cologne--Peace of Nürnberg 322

CHAPTER III.

TRIUMPH OF THE ANABAPTISTS OF MUNSTER.

(1533.)

Melchior Hoffmann--Bernard Rottmann--Rottmann's Marriage--John

Matthisson of Haarlem--John Bockkold of Leyden--Bernard

Knipperdolling--Disorders at Munster--The Visionaries in

power--Their Enemies expelled--Destruction of Books and Works

of Art--John of Leyden in power--Terror 331

CHAPTER IV.

THE ANABAPTISTS OF MUNSTER. EXCESSES.

(1535.)

The King of the Universe--Pride and Luxury--A Supper--An

Apostolate--Cruelty 342

CHAPTER V.

THE ANABAPTISTS OF MUNSTER. CHASTISEMENT.

(1535-1536.)

Siege and Famine--Vain Efforts--The Assault--Capture of

Munster--Executions--Luther's Opinion--Three Causes of the

disorder--The Finger-post 347

TRIUMPH IN DEATH.

DEATH OF LUTHER.

(FEBRUARY 18, 1546.)

Luther at Eisleben--Sense of his approaching end--Serenity of

his Faith--His last testimony--His last breath 353

APPENDIX.

Transcript of 'Indulgence' of Leo X. 359

GENERAL INDEX TO VOLUMES I.--VIII. 369

HISTORY

OF THE

REFORMATION IN EUROPE

IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

BOOK XIV.

THE SPANISH MARTYRS.

CHAPTER I.

THE AWAKENING IN SPAIN.

(1520-1535.)

The Church of Spain had long preserved its independence with regard

to the papacy. It was at the time of the ambitious and monopolizing

Hildebrand that it began to lose it.

At the period of the Reformation it had been subject to the pope for

more than four hundred years, and great obstacles were opposed to

its deliverance. The mass of the people were given to superstition;

the Spanish character was resolute to the degree of obstinacy; the

clergy reigned supreme; the Inquisition had just been armed with new

terrors by Ferdinand and Isabella; and the peninsular situation of the

country seemed inevitably to isolate it from those lands in which the

Reformation was triumphant.

Nevertheless many minds were, up to a certain point, prepared for

evangelical reform. In almost every class the Inquisition excited the

liveliest discontent. Towards the close of the fifteenth century, a

man was often to be met with traversing Spain, surrounded by a guard of

fifty mounted attendants and two hundred foot-soldiers. This man, whose

name was Torquemada, was the terror of the people; and consequently

in his progresses he displayed the greatest distrust, imagining that

every one was bent on assassinating him. On his arrival at any place,

when he sat down to table, he trembled lest the dishes brought to him

should have been poisoned. For this reason, before partaking of any

food, he used to place before him the horn of a unicorn, to which he

attributed the virtue of discovering and even of neutralizing poisons.

Universal hatred accompanied him to the tomb. Torquemada, the first

inquisitor-general, caused eight thousand persons to be put to death,

and a hundred thousand to be imprisoned and despoiled of their goods.

Whole provinces rose against this horrible tribunal.[4] 'They steal,

they kill, they outrage,' wrote the chevalier de Cordova, Gonzalo de

Ayora, speaking of the inquisitors to the first secretary of King

Ferdinand. 'They care neither for justice nor for God himself.'[5]

'O unhappy Spain!' cried Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, councillor for the

Indies, in his distress. 'Mother of so many heroes, how this horrible

scourge dishonors thee!'[6]

Meanwhile the universities were being enlightened. Various writings,

especially those of Erasmus, were much read; and while doctors and

students learned to scrutinize more closely the state of the Church,

a spirit of inquiry began to penetrate those ancient institutions.

There were, besides, scattered here and there in the towns and in

country places, some Christians, called _Alumbrados_, who sought after

an inward light and applied themselves to secret prayer. These pious

Mystics were better prepared to receive divine truth.[7]

[Sidenote: THE AWAKENING IN SPAIN.]

More than this, political circumstances were favorable to the

introduction of the Reformation. Spain was at this time under the same

sceptre as Germany and the Netherlands, and the rays of light emanating

from the Scriptures could not but reach it. The emperor Charles the

Fifth, who was fighting against the Reformation in Germany, was to

be the means of bringing it into the country of his very Catholic

ancestors. The young Alfonso Valdès, his secretary, who was with him

at Brussels in 1520, and afterwards at Worms in 1521, was at first

struck with horror at seeing the boldness with which Luther attacked

the authority of the pope. But what he saw and heard led him gradually

to comprehend the necessity for Reformation. Consequently, when writing

from Brussels and Worms to his friend Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, Valdès

sorrowfully exclaimed, 'While the pontiff shuts his eyes and desires

to see Luther devoured by the flames, the whole Christian community is

near its ruin, unless God save it.'[8]

Books more dangerous to Rome than those of Erasmus reached Spain. A

printer of Basel, the very year in which Charles was elected emperor

(1519), packed up carefully for transport beyond the Pyrenees some

precious merchandise not yet prohibited in the peninsula, because as

yet unknown there. It consisted of various Latin works of Luther.[9] In

1520 the 'Commentary on the Galatians,' and afterwards other writings

of the reformer, were translated into Spanish.[10] The union existing

between Spain and the Netherlands had led many Spaniards to settle in

the latter country, and it may possibly have been one of these who

translated them. It is at least certain that they were printed at

Antwerp, and that merchant vessels carried them thence into Spain.

Many noble minds were stirred up and became attentive to what was

passing in Germany. Francis de Angelis, provincial of the Order of

the Angeli, who had been present at the coronation of the emperor,

was still more enlightened than Valdès himself. Being sent back to

Spain after the Diet of Worms upon an important mission, he stopped

at Basel. There he visited Pellican, and in a conversation which he

had with him he showed himself almost in agreement with Luther.[11]

All these circumstances arousing the attention of Rome, Leo X. sent

(March 20, 1521) two briefs to Spain to demand that the introduction of

the books of the German reformer and his partisans into that country

should be checked; and Adrian VI., the successor of Leo, called upon

the government to assist the Inquisition in the accomplishment of this

duty.[12]

But in Spain itself evangelical truth was then preached with

earnestness, though not with the fulness, clearness, and purity of the

reformers. There was in Andalusia a young priest who from about 1525

preached with extraordinary power. His name was John d'Avila. 'The

fervor,' says one of his biographers, 'with which he exerted himself

to sow the heavenly seed of the Word of God in the hearts of men was

almost incredible.'[13] He strove both to convert souls estranged from

God, and to lead those who were converted to go forward courageously in

the service of God. He employed no more time in the composition of his

morning addresses than he did in delivering them. A long preparation

would in his case have been impossible, on account of the numerous

engagements which his charity drew upon him from all quarters. 'The

Holy Spirit enlightened him with his light and spoke by his mouth; so

that he was obliged to be careful not to extend his discourses too

much, so abundant was the source from which they flowed.'

[Sidenote: JOHN D'AVILA.]

Seeing the great number of souls converted by his word, the question

was asked, what was the chief source of his power? Is it, they said,

the force of the doctrine, or the fervor of his charity, or the

tenderness of his fatherly kindness, joined to ineffable humility and

gentleness? He has himself decided this important point, and answered

the inquiry. A preacher, struck by D'Avila's success, and desiring the

like for himself, begged him for some advice on preaching, and on the

way to render it efficacious. 'I know no better way,' he replied, 'than

to love Jesus Christ.' This is the true science of homiletics.

Jesus Christ and his love was indeed the strength of his eloquence.

It was by setting before sinners a dying Jesus that he called them to

repentance. 'We, Lord,' he cried, 'have transgressed, and thou bearest

the punishment! Our crimes have loaded thee with all kinds of shame,

and have caused thee to die upon the cross! Oh! what sinner would not

at this sight lament over his sins!'[14] But D'Avila pointed out at

the same time in this death a means of salvation. 'They bind him with

cords,' he said; 'they buffet him; they crown him with thorns; they

nail him on the cross, and he suffers death thereon. If he is thus

treated it is because he loved you, and would wash away your sins in

his own blood! O Jesus, my Saviour, thou wast not content with these

outward sufferings; it has pleased thee to endure also inward pain

far surpassing them. Thou hast submitted to the stern decree of thy

Father's justice; thou hast taken upon thee all the sins of the world.

O Lamb of God, thou hast borne the burden alone; thou hast sufficed

thereto, and hast obtained for us redemption by thy death. We have been

made the righteousness of God in thee, and the Father loves us in his

well-beloved Son. Let us not be afraid of praising him too much for

the entire blotting out of our sins, the privilege bestowed by God on

those whom he justifies by the merits of Jesus Christ. This exalts the

greatness of those merits which have procured them so much blessedness,

although they were so unworthy of it. O Lord, be glorified forever for

this.'[15]

Nevertheless, John d'Avila, while he recognized the necessity of

justification by the death of Christ, had a less distinct conception

of it than the reformers, and gave it a less prominent place in his

teaching than they did. It was on its efficacy for sanctification

that he especially dwelt. He committed indeed the error of placing

love in the chapter of justification, instead of placing it, like

the reformers, in that of sanctification, which is its true place.

But he could not too much insist on the transformation which must

be wrought in the character and life of the Christian. 'What,' he

cried, 'is it conceivable that Jesus Christ should wash, purify, and

sanctify our souls with his own blood, and that they should still

remain unrighteous, defiled, impure?' ... He sometimes employed strange

figures to inculcate the necessity of this work. 'A creature having but

the head of a man,' he said, 'all the rest of its body being that of

a beast, would be considered a horrible monster. It would be no less

monstrous, in the sphere of grace, that God who is righteousness and

purity itself should have for his members unrighteous, defiled, and

corrupt men.'[16]

D'Avila labored not only by his discourses, but likewise by his

conversations and letters in promoting the kingdom of God in the

souls of men. He was benevolence itself. He consoled the afflicted,

encouraged the timid, aroused the cowardly, stirred up the lukewarm,

fortified the weak, sustained those who were tempted, sought to raise

up sinners after their falls, and humbled the proud. His letters

are mostly far superior to those of Fénélon. They are at least much

more evangelical.[17] 'I tell you this,' he wrote to some friends in

affliction, 'only in order to assure you that Jesus Christ loves you.

Ought not these words, that _a God loves us_, to fill with joy such

poor creatures as we are?'[18] 'Read the sacred writings,' said he

in another letter to those who wished for instruction, 'but remember

that if he who has the key of knowledge, and who alone can open the

book, does not give the power to comprehend, you will never understand

it.'[19]

[Sidenote: ST. THERESA.]

D'Avila possessed the gift of discernment. He did not, indeed, entirely

escape the influence of the period and of the country in which he

lived; but we find him exposing the pretended revelations of Madeline

de la Croix, who deceived so many, and undertaking the defence of the

pious Theresa de Cepedre, when persecuted by the Inquisition. Theresa,

born at Avila in 1515, of a noble family, had so much zeal even in her

childhood that she one day quitted her father's house with her brother

to go and seek martyrdom amongst the Moors. A relative met the two

children and took them back. She was from that time divided between the

love of the world and the love of God, throwing herself alternately

into dissipation and into the monastic life. This woman, the famous St.

Theresa, was one of those ardent spirits who rush by turns to the two

extremes. Happily she met with D'Avila, whose judgment was more mature

than her own, received his instructions, and, by his means, became

confirmed in spiritual life. Her writings, full of piety, and even

attractive in style, were translated by the Jansenists, like those of

D'Avila.[20] He was the friend and director to a poor soldier, who,

having been discharged in 1536, was converted, and turned his house

into an hospital, for which he provided by the work of his own hands,

and thus became founder of the Order of Charity. D'Avila gave to this

charitable Christian, who was called John de Dieu, the wisest counsels,

the sum of which was, 'Die rather than be unfaithful to so good a

Master.'

One day a young girl, named Sancha de Carile, daughter of a señor

of Cordova, was preparing to go to court, where she had just been

appointed maid of honor to the queen. She wished first to have a

conversation with John d'Avila, and was so touched by his words that

she thenceforth abandoned the court and the world. Instead, however,

of entering a convent, she remained in her father's house, and there

devoted herself till death to the service of Jesus Christ, whom she

had found as her Saviour.[21] It was for Sancha de Carile that D'Avila

composed his principal work, entitled _Audi, filia, et vide_ ('Hearken,

O daughter, and consider'[22]), Ps. xlv. 10. D'Avila did not side with

the doctors and disciples of the Reformation, who were continually

increasing in number in Germany. He differed from them, indeed, on

several points, but on others approached them so nearly that his

preaching could not but prepare men's minds to receive the fulness of

evangelical doctrine. The Inquisition understood this.[23]

[Sidenote: AN EXAMINATION.]

The period which elapsed between 1520 and 1535 was an epoch which

prepared the way for reformation in Spain. In the universities, in the

towns, and in country places many minds were silently inclining towards

a better doctrine. The Reformation was then like fire smouldering under

the ashes, but was to manifest itself later in many a noble heart.

Nevertheless, from time to time the flame became visible. A peasant, a

simple man without any culture whatever, who had busied himself only

about his fields, had by some means received Christian convictions.[24]

One day, when in company with some relations and friends, he exclaimed,

'It is Christ who, with his own blood, daily washes and purifies from

their sins those who belong to him, and there is no other purgatory.'

It seems that the poor man had only repeated a saying which he had

heard in some meeting, and which had pleased him, without being

penetrated by the truth which he had expressed. When, therefore,

he was cited before the inquisitors of the faith, he said, 'I have

certainly held that opinion, but, since it displeases your reverences,

I willingly retract it.' This did not satisfy the priests. They heaped

reproaches upon him. 'They may have feared,' says the author of the

_Artifices of the Spanish Inquisition_, 'that their inquisitive

faculties would stagnate and rot unless they set about finding some

knavery in the man, thus pretending to find knots in a bulrush--_nodus

in scirpo_.' 'You have asserted that there is no purgatory. _Ergo_ you

believe that the pope is mistaken--that the councils are mistaken--and

that man is justified by faith alone.' In short, they unfolded before

him all the doctrines which they called heresies, and charged the

unfortunate man with them as if he had actually professed them. The

poor peasant protested; he confidently maintained that he did not even

know what these doctrines meant. But they insisted on their charge,

and showed him the close connection which subsists between all these

dogmas. The poor man had been deprived of the ordinary means of

instruction; but these priests, who were more opposed to the Gospel

than water is to fire, says the narrator, taught and enlightened him.

Those who boasted themselves to be the great extirpators of the truth

became its propagators. The peasant of whom we speak thus attained

to the fulness of the faith which hitherto had only just dawned upon

him. It was a striking example of the wonderful way in which Divine

Goodness sometimes calls its chosen ones. There were many other such

instances.'[25]

[Sidenote: RODRIGO DE VALERIO.]

The chief reformer of Spain was to spring from a higher class. He

was born in Andalusia, the Baetica which in the eyes of the ancients

was the fairest and happiest of all the countries in the world. Near

rocky mountains, on a vast plain of picturesque and solemn aspect,

lies Lebrixa, an ancient town about ten leagues from Seville on the

Cadiz side. Here lived Rodrigo de Valerio, a young man of a rich and

distinguished family. He had, in common with the Andalusians, great

quickness of apprehension; fancy sparkled in his speech, and his

temperament was very cheerful. Like them, he was distinguished by his

love of pleasure, and it was his glory to surpass in its indulgence all

the young men with whom he associated. He generally lived at Seville, a

town called by the Romans 'little Rome' (_Romula_), which had long been

a centre of intelligence, and where the Alcazar and other monuments

recalled the magnificence of the Moorish kings. Rodrigo had received a

liberal education, and had learned a little Latin; but this had been

speedily forgotten amidst the diversions of youth. There was not a hunt

nor a game at which he was not present. He was to be seen arriving at

the rendezvous mounted on a superb horse, richly equipped, and himself

magnificently attired.[26] Easy and skilful in bodily exercises, he

carried away every prize. Full of grace and elegance, he succeeded in

winning the favor of fair ladies. His delight was to mount the wildest

horse, to scale the rocks, to dance with light foot, to hunt with horn

and hound, to draw the cross-bow or shoot with the arquebus, and to

be the leader of fashionable young men in every party and at every

festival.

All at once Valerio disappeared from society. He was sought at the

games, in the dance, at the races, but was nowhere to be found. Every

one was asking what had become of him. He had abandoned every thing.

The pleasures of the world had oppressed and wearied him, and he had

found all void and bitterness. What! thought he, play the lute, make

one's horse caper, sing, dance ... and forget what it is to be a man!

A voice had cried in his heart that God was all in all. He had yielded

to no human influence; God alone had touched him by his Spirit.[27]

The change was for this reason all the more remarkable. The lively

affections of his heart, which had hitherto rushed like a tempestuous

torrent downwards towards the world, now rose with the same energy

towards heaven. 'A divine passion,' says a contemporary, 'suddenly

seized him.[28] Casting off his old inclinations, and despising human

judgment, he applied his whole strength, both of mind and body, so

zealously to the pursuit of piety, that no worldly affection seemed to

be left in him.' If Rodrigo had then retired to a convent, all would

have been _en règle_, and every one would have admired him; but no one

could understand why, while renouncing pleasure, he did not immediately

shut himself up in one of those human sanctuaries to which alone the

world at that time gave the patent of a devout life. Some, indeed,

of the remarks made on him were very natural. He had passed from one

extreme to the other, and in his first fervor he exposed himself to

the ridicule of his old companions. The young man who had hitherto

been remarkable for the delicacy of his manners, the elegance of his

discourse, and the splendor of his dress, displayed now a somewhat

repulsive roughness and negligence.[29] Sincere and upright, but as

yet unenlightened, unacquainted indeed with any other pious life than

that of ascetics, it is not astonishing that he threw himself at first

into an exaggerated asceticism. He thought that he should thus renounce

the world more completely and make a more perfect sacrifice to the

Lord. He has lost his head, said some; he is drunk, said others. But

on closer observation the true fear of God was to be seen in him,

a sincere repentance for the vanity of his life, an ardent thirst

for righteousness, and an indefatigable zeal in acquiring all the

characteristics of true piety. But one thing above all occupied his

mind. We have seen that he had learned Latin. This knowledge, which he

had despised, now became of the greatest service to him. It was only in

this language that the sacred writings could be read; he studied them

day and night;[30] by means of hard toil he fixed them in his memory,

and he had an admirable gift for applying the words of Scripture with

correctness and promptitude. He endeavored to regulate his whole

conduct by their teaching; and people perceived in him the presence of

the Spirit by whom they were dictated.

Valerio became one of the apostles of the doctrines of Luther and the

other reformers.[31] 'It was not in their own writings that he had

learned these. He had derived them directly from the Holy Scriptures.

Those sacred books, which, according to some, are the source of such

various doctrines, then produced in every country of Christendom the

same faith and the same life.' He soon began to diffuse around him the

light he had received. People were astonished at hearing this young

layman, who had recently made one of every party of pleasure, speaking

with so much fervor. 'From whom do you hold your commission?' asked

some one. 'From God himself,' replied he, 'who enlightens us with his

Holy Spirit, and does not consider whether his messenger is a priest or

a monk.'

[Sidenote: JOHN DE VERGARA.]

Valerio was not the only one to awaken from sleep. A literary movement

in the path opened by Erasmus had, as we have already said, prepared

the way of the Gospel in Spain. One of its chiefs was John de Vergara,

canon of Toledo, who had been secretary to Cardinal Ximenes. An

accomplished Greek and Hebrew scholar, he had pointed out some errors

in the Vulgate; and he was one of the editors of the Polyglot of

Alcala. 'With what pleasure do I learn,' wrote the scholar of Rotterdam

to him in 1527, 'that the study of languages and of literature is

flourishing in that Spain which was of old the fruitful mother of

the greatest geniuses.' John de Vergara had a brother named Francis,

a professor of Greek literature at Complutum (the present Alcala de

Henares). Alcala, near Madrid, the seat of the foremost university

in the kingdom next to Salamanca, was at this epoch a centre of

intelligence, and had acquired a European renown. A breath of freedom

and life seemed to have passed over it. John and Francis, with another

Spaniard, Bernardin de Tobar, apparently their brother, put forth

their united efforts to revive the pursuit of literature in their

native land, and kindled bright hopes in the breast of the prince of

the schools. Calling to mind, as was his wont, the stories of ancient

times, Erasmus compared these three friends of letters to Geryon,

king of the Balearic Islands, the most powerful of men, of whom the

poets had made a giant with three bodies. 'Spain,' said he, 'has once

more its Geryon, with three bodies but one spirit, and the happiest

anticipations are excited in our minds.'[32] The modern Geryon,

however, failed to win the honor of the triumph promised by Erasmus. In

the Inquisition he met the Hercules who vanquished him. These eminent

men had found their way through the love of learning to the love of

the Gospel; and John had carried his audacity to such a pitch that

he aimed at correcting the Vulgate. Hereupon certain monks who knew

nothing of Latin beyond the jargon of the schools raised the alarm.

John and Tobar were arrested by the inquisitors of Toledo, cast into

a dungeon, and called upon to renounce the _heresies_ of Luther. This

charge they had not at all anticipated. It was not by the reformer,

but by his opponent, Erasmus, that they had been attracted to the Holy

Scriptures. Being as yet weak in faith, they thought they might declare

themselves unacquainted with Lutheranism; and they were released.

Certain penances, however, were imposed on them, and they were placed

under the _surveillance_ of the Inquisition?[33]

At this time, between 1530 and 1540, a great theological controversy

was being carried on in the university of Alcala. One of the champions

was Matthew Pascual, a doctor distinguished for his acquirements in

learning--he was master of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin--for his love

of letters, of the Holy Scriptures, and of a doctrine more pure

than that of the monks. The discussion had become animated; and the

opponent of Pascual, in the heat of the conflict, exclaimed--'If the

case be as Doctor Matthew maintains, it would follow that there would

be no purgatory!' Pascual had probably said with St. John that _the

blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin_. He replied

simply--'What then? (_Quid tum?_)' The monks were all agitated

at these words. 'He said _Quid tum!_ He denies purgatory.' He was

forthwith committed to the prison of the holy fathers,[34] from which

he was not liberated till long afterwards, and then with the loss of

all his property. He then left Spain. Two monosyllables had cost him

dear.

[Sidenote: PETER DE LERMA.]

There was resident at Alcala at this time a man who far surpassed

the Vergaras and the Pascuals, and whose judgments were universally

accepted in Spain as oracles.[35] This was Peter de Lerma, abbot of

Alcala, canon, professor of theology, and chancellor of the university,

skilled in the oriental languages, which he had studied in Paris, and

well versed in Scholastic theology. He was highly esteemed throughout

the whole Peninsula. He was consulted on the greatest affairs of

state; and many had recourse to him as to a touch-stone which at once

indicated to them what was good and what was evil. As he was wealthy

and belonged to a noble family of Burgos, he had great influence. From

an early age he gave himself up to the reading of the Holy Scriptures,

convinced that without them it was impossible to attain any real

knowledge of holy things. At an advanced age he read the works of

Erasmus. His mind was enlightened by them; and he acknowledged that

the studies pursued at the universities served only for vain display.

A new form was given to his activity, and his words were henceforth

remarkable for their freedom, their simplicity, and their vigor.

'Draw,' said he, 'from the oldest sources; do not take up opinions upon

the sole authority of any masters, however solid they may be.' Words

like these were altogether new in the Catholic churches. Peter de Lerma

was a kindly old man, now aged about seventy. The monks, regardless of

his age, his attainments, or the authority which he enjoyed, had him

cast into prison by their agents. His opponents attacked him in private

conferences. But the aged doctor, finding that the best reasons were of

no avail with his enemies, that they refused to listen to the truth,

and had no regard for innocence, declared that he would hold no more

discussion with Spaniards, and required them to summon learned men of

other lands, capable of understanding the evidence laid before them. To

the inquisitors this seemed to be horrible blasphemy. 'Would it not be

said,' they exclaimed, 'that the holy fathers of the Inquisition may

be in error, and that they are unable to comprehend a hundred others

better than you?' They assailed him with insults, they plagued him

in the prison, they threatened him with torture. The poor old man at

last, enfeebled by age and by persecution, and not yet sufficiently

established in the faith, as was usually the case with the converts of

Erasmus, complied with the demands of his persecutors. He then withdrew

to Burgos, his native place. Melancholy weighed him down. The energies

of his soul were crushed. His hopes for the future of his people had

vanished. He bowed down his head and suffered. Informed ere long that

it was intended to arrest him, he fled to Flanders; then went to Paris,

where he died dean of the Sorbonne, and professor of theology in that

university.

The preaching of the old man was not fruitless in Spain. Like John

d'Avila and others, he was one of those Spanish evangelicals who did

not make use of Luther's name, but asserted that they preached simply

the primitive doctrines of the Apostles. This came to much the same

thing. The tint was only a little softened and less powerful.

[Sidenote: ARREST OF JOHN D'AVILA.]

Louis of Cadena, one of his nephews, had succeeded him as chancellor of

the university of Alcala. By his elegant Latinity, and his acquaintance

with Hebrew, Arabic, and Greek, he acquired great reputation among

men of letters. Convinced that if Spain were ever to become great,

it was necessary to give her an impulse towards light and liberty,

he undertook, notwithstanding the fate of his uncle, to bring to an

end the reign of Scholasticism. Information was laid against him, as

one suspected of Lutheranism, before the Inquisition at Toledo; and

he was compelled to fly in order to escape the dungeons of the holy

office. The Inquisition in those days lost no opportunity of putting an

extinguisher over any light divinely kindled in Spain, of suppressing

thought and checking its progress.[36] Louis betook himself likewise to

Paris, where, like his uncle, he restrained his zeal to avoid exposure

to fresh persecutions.[37]

John d'Avila himself, the apostle of Andalusia, whose only thought was

the conversion of souls, and who did not meddle with controversies,

found that the monks, enraged and provoked by his refusal to engage

in disputation, denounced him to the Inquisition as a Lutheran or

_alumbrado_. In 1534, an inauspicious year for evangelical Spain, this

humble pastor was arrested at Seville, and cast into the prisons of the

holy office. But his enemies, impelled by blind hatred, had not even

informed the archbishop of Seville, Don Alfonso de Manrique, who was

at this time Grand Inquisitor. The prelate, who cherished the highest

esteem for John d'Avila, was affected on hearing what his subordinates

had just done. He pointed out that this man was no Lutheran, but was

only seeking to do good to the souls of men. D'Avila was consequently

acquitted, and he continued quietly to preach the Gospel till his

death. The inquisitors, by fastening the name 'Lutheran' on every thing

pious, rendered indirect homage to Lutheranism.[38]

[Sidenote: ALFONSO VIRVES.]

Manrique was not alone in occasional opposition to the fanaticism of

the inquisitors. Charles the Fifth himself, although strongly opposed

to every thing which appeared to him heresy, seems to have had some

relish for solid preaching. His fine understanding preferred it to the

fables of the monks. He had for his chaplain a Dominican monk named

Alfonso Virves, an accomplished orientalist and a good theologian.

Charles took him with him when he travelled in Germany; and he not only

liked to hear him preach, but also associated with him in his numerous

journeyings with a certain degree of intimacy. After his return to

Spain, the emperor would hear no other preacher. Certain monks who

coveted the privilege of preaching before the emperor were filled with

envy and hatred. They inveighed against Virves. In vain he contended,

according to the dictates of his conscience, for what he believed to

be true piety; these wretches uttered shameless calumnies against

him, and obvious falsehoods, and resorted to malicious intrigues.

This was their usual method.[39] Virves esteemed the fine genius of

Erasmus, but censured him for his too great freedom. He asserted that

his wish was to secure Spain against Lutheranism. But he had seen

in Germany the leading reformers, had enjoyed friendly intercourse

with them, and declared that he renounced the attempt to recall them

from their errors.[40] This was ground enough for a prosecution;

and without any regard to the wish of the emperor, the inquisitors

arrested his chaplain, threw him into the prison of the Holy Office

at Seville, and in eager haste prepared to sacrifice him. The news of

their proceedings reaching Charles the Fifth, he was astonished and

indignant. He was better acquainted with Virves than the inquisitors

were. He determined by energetic action to foil the conspiracies of the

monks. He felt confident that Virves was the victim of an intrigue. He

even banished Manrique, the inquisitor-general, who was compelled to

retire to his diocese, and died there. Charles did more than this. He

addressed to the Holy Office, July 18, 1534, an ordinance prohibiting

the arrest of a monk before laying the evidence before the council

and awaiting its orders. But the emperor, all-powerful as he was, was

not powerful enough to snatch a victim from the Inquisition. Virves,

whose only crime was that of being a pious and moderate Catholic,

had to undergo for four years all the horrors of a secret prison.

He says himself that they hardly gave him leave to breathe. The

inquisitors overwhelmed him with accusations, with interdictions,

with libels and with words, he says, which one can not hear without

being terrified. He adds that he was charged with errors, heresies,

blasphemies, anathemas, schism, and other similar monstrosities. To

convince them, he undertook labors which might be likened to those

of Hercules. He exhibited the points which he had drawn up by way of

preparation for an attack on Melanchthon before the diet of Ratisbon.

But all was useless. The tribunal condemned him in 1537 to abjure all

heresies, among others those of Luther, to be confined in a monastery

for two years, and to abstain from preaching for two years after his

liberation. The poor man had to appear in the cathedral of Seville, and

to retract, among other propositions, the following:--'A life of action

is more meritorious than a life of contemplation.--A larger number of

Christians are saved in the married state than in all other states.'

Charles the Fifth, determined at all cost to rescue his chaplain from

imprisonment, applied to the pope, who by a brief of May 29, 1538,

ordered that Virves should be set at liberty, and be again allowed to

preach. Charles now nominated him bishop of the Canary Islands. After

some hesitation, the pope consented to the appointment, and in 1540,

the heretic was invested with the episcopal mitre. In the following

year he published at Antwerp his _Philippicæ Disputationes_, in which

his objections to the doctrines of Luther are set forth. In the same

book, however, he asserted that heretics ought not to be ill-used, but

persuaded, and this especially by setting before them the testimonies

of Holy Scripture; because _all Scripture given by inspiration of

God is profitable_, says St. Paul, _for doctrine, for reproof, for

correction_. Alfonso Virves was one of those Spaniards whom the

Inquisition prevented from becoming evangelical, but could not succeed

in making papistical and ultramontane.[41]

Virves was not the only Spaniard who imbibed in Germany views which

nearly approached to those of the Reformation. Several learnt more

than he did in the land of Luther, and exerted an influence on the

Peninsula. Curiosity was awakened, and people wanted to know what that

reformation was of which so much was said. Spain, rigid and antique,

began to be astir. Meetings were held in the country and secret

associations were formed. The Inquisition, astonished, turned in all

directions its searching eyes. In vain were learned theologians sent to

Germany and other lands for the purpose of bringing back to the church

of Rome those who were leaving it. The doctors themselves returned to

Spain, conquered by the truth against which they were to fight.[42]

Many of them became victims to their faith after their return to their

native land; others became martyrs in foreign lands.

CHAPTER II.

REFORMATION AND INQUISITION.

[Sidenote: SECRET MEETINGS.]

Seville and Valladolid were the two principal seats of the awakening.

These towns were at this time, properly speaking, the two capitals of

Spain. In both of them evangelical Christians used to meet together

secretly to worship God in spirit and in truth, and to confirm each

other in the faith and in obedience to the commandments of the Lord.

There were monasteries nearly all the members of which had received the

doctrine of the Gospel. It had, moreover, adherents scattered about in

all parts of the Peninsula. Rodrigo de Valerio, the lay reformer of

Spain, continued his labors in Seville. He held conversations daily

with the priests and the monks. 'Pray how comes it to pass,' he said

to them, 'that not only the clergy but the whole Christian community

is found to be in so lamentable a condition that there seems to be

hardly any hope of a remedy for it? It is you that are the cause of

this state of things. The corruption of your order has corrupted every

thing. Lose no time in applying an efficient remedy to so vast an evil.

Be yourselves transformed that you may be able to transform others.'

Valerio supported these eloquent appeals by the declarations of Holy

Scripture. The priests were astonished and indignant. 'Whence comes

the audacity,' they said, 'with which you assail those who are the

very lights and pillars of the Church?[43] How dare a mere layman, an

unlettered man, who has been occupied solely in secular affairs and in

ruining himself, speak with such insolence?... Who commissioned you,

and where is the seal of your calling?' 'Assuredly,' replied Valerio,

candidly, 'I did not acquire this wisdom from your corrupt morals;

it comes from the Spirit of God, which flows, like rivers of living

water, from those who believe in Jesus Christ. As for my boldness, it

is given by him who sends me. He is the truth itself which I proclaim.

The Spirit of God is not bound to any order, least of all to that of a

corrupt clergy. Those men were laymen, plain fishermen, who convicted

of blindness the whole learned synagogue, and called the world to the

knowledge of salvation.'

[Sidenote: JOHN EGIDIUS.]

Thus spoke Rodrigo; and he was distressed to see all these priests

'unable to endure the shining light of the Gospel.' One great

consolation was given to him. The preacher of Seville cathedral at

this time was John Gil, or Egidius, a doctor, born at Olvera, in

Aragon, and educated at the university of Alcala. He possessed the

qualities of an orator; for he was a man of fine character and of

keen sensibility. But these essential qualities, instead of being

developed at the university, had lain dormant. The intellectual faculty

alone had been cultivated. There was a fire in the man's nature, but

it had been quenched by Scholasticism. Egidius had plunged into the

study of the theology of the schools, the only science then in vogue

in Spain. In this he had distinguished himself, had won the highest

academical honors, and had become professor of theology at Siguenza.

He was not content with letting the Word of God alone; he openly

avowed contempt for the study of it, ridiculed such members of the

university as diligently read the sacred books, and with a shrug of

the shoulders used to call them 'those good Biblists.' Peter Lombard,

Thomas Aquinas, Scotus, and other doctors of the same class, were the

men for him. His flatterers went so far as to allege that he surpassed

them. As the reputation of Egidius was spreading far and wide, when the

office of chief canon or preacher of the cathedral of Seville became

vacant, the chapter unanimously elected him, and even dispensed with

the trial usual in such cases. Egidius, absorbed in his Scholastic

books, had never preached in public nor studied the Holy Scriptures.

He nevertheless fancied that nothing could be easier to him than

preaching, which in his view was an inferior office. He expected even

that he should dazzle his hearers by the blaze of Scholasticism, and

attract them by its charms. He therefore ascended the pulpit of the

cathedral of the capital of Andalusia. A numerous congregation had

assembled, and expecting something wonderful were very attentive. The

illustrious doctor preached, but after the Scholastic fashion. Having

put forward some proposition, he explained its various meanings.

The terms which he made use of were those of the schools, and his

hearers could hardly understand them. What frivolous distinctions!

What profitless questions! The preacher thought it all very fine: his

audience felt it to be very tiresome. They gave him, however, a second

and a third hearing; but it was always the same--dry and wearisome.

The famous theologian was thus the least popular of the preachers, and

Egidius saw his congregation lessening day by day. His sermons fell

into the greatest contempt among the people. Those who had imprudently

called him to the post began to consider how they could get rid of

him; and the preacher himself, anxious about his reputation and the

usefulness of his ministry, began to look out for a less brilliant

position, in which people might make more account of him.[44]

[Sidenote: VALERIO AND EGIDIUS.]

Rodrigo had gone with the multitude, and was one of those who were

dissatisfied with these Scholastic discourses. But he was gifted with

the discerning of spirits, and beneath the Scholastic doctor he had

been able to recognize the orator and his indisputable abilities. He

was grieved to see the gifts of God thus thrown away, and he resolved

to speak frankly to Egidius. 'Divine Providence,' says the chronicler,

'impelled him to this course.' Having made request, therefore, for an

interview with the canon, Valerio, received by him with some feeling

of surprise, but still with kindliness, began at once to speak to him

about the function of the Christian orator.[45] This function, in his

view, was not to set forth certain theses and anti-theses, but to

address the consciences of men, to present Christ to them as the author

of eternal salvation, and to press them to throw themselves into the

arms of this Saviour, that through him they might become new creatures.

'You are in need of other studies,' he said to the schoolman, 'other

books, and other guides than those which you have chosen.' Egidius was

at first astounded; his pride rebelled. 'What audacity!' he thought;

'this man sprung from the common people, ignorant and of feeble

understanding, dares to criticise me, and confidently to teach me, a

man with whom he is hardly acquainted!'[46] Nevertheless, the natural

kindliness of Egidius, and the reflection that Rodrigo was speaking of

the art of preaching, in which he had miserably failed, repressed this

first emotion. He kept his self-possession and listened attentively

to the layman. Rodrigo frankly pointed out to him the defects of his

manner of preaching, and exhorted him to search the Scriptures. 'You

will never succeed,' he said, 'in becoming really powerful as a teacher

unless you study the Bible day and night.'[47] He told him that in

order to preach salvation he must first have found it himself, and

that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth must speak. A few

hours sufficed for the enlightenment of Egidius; and from this time

he became a new man.[48] How many years had he lost, both as student

and as professor! 'I perceive,' said he, 'that all the studies and all

the labors of my past life have been vain. I now enter upon the new

path of a wisdom of which I did not know the A B C.' The weariness

and dejection of Egidius were now over, and he felt great peace and

joy. He saw God opening to him the treasury of his love. 'The heavens

were beginning to be serene and the earth peaceful.' Egidius was

naturally very open-hearted, frank, and sincere. The Gospel, the great

revelation of God's love, had for him an unspeakable charm. He received

it joyfully, and his heart resounded with a new song. He studied the

Holy Scriptures, prayed, meditated, and read good authors; and thus

made progress in the knowledge of true theology.

Rodrigo de Valerio was made glad by the wonderful change which God had

wrought through his ministry; and the victory which he had won raised

still higher his burning zeal. He began to proclaim the Gospel not only

in private meetings, but in public, in the streets and squares of the

town, near the Giralda, the convent of Buena Vitta, the Alcazar, and

on the banks of the Guadalquivir. He was denounced to the holy office,

and when he appeared before the tribunal of the Inquisition he spoke

earnestly about the real church of Christ, set forth its distinguishing

marks, and especially insisted on the justification of man by faith.

This took place a little while after the conversion of Egidius, whose

new faith was not yet known, and who still enjoyed in society the

reputation of a scholar and a good Catholic. Glad of an opportunity

of repaying his great debt, he came before the tribunal and defended

his friend. He thus exerted an influence over the judges, and they

took into consideration the lowliness of Valerio's family and the rank

which he held in society. Moreover, they said Valerio is tainted with

insanity, and it can hardly be necessary to hand over a madman to the

secular power. His goods were confiscated, he was exhorted to return

to the right path, and was then set at liberty.

The astonishing change which had been effected in Egidius was soon

remarked at Seville. Now fully persuaded of the need of repentance

and faith, and possessing salvation by personal experience,[49] his

preaching was henceforth as simple, affectionate, and fervent as it had

before been cold, ignorant, and pedantic. Abstract propositions and

fruitless disputations now gave place to powerful appeals to conscience

and to entreaties full of charity. General attention was aroused. Once

more a multitude thronged the noble cathedral, erected on the very

spot on which the Arabs had formerly built a magnificent mosque, in

which neither altar nor image was to be seen, but which was brilliant

with marbles and lamps. The Christians were now summoned to hear the

good news by bells in the summit of the Mohammedan tower, the Giralda,

whence the muezzins had once called the people to prayer. This was the

sole remnant of the mosque, and it gave its name to the church. Jesus

Christ now took the place of the false prophet and the vain forms

of the papacy; and many believed in the grace of the Son of God. In

the discourses of Egidius there was a charm which was felt alike by

the educated and the ignorant. He was the most animated and the most

popular preacher who had ever appeared at Seville; and his history

shows, better perhaps than that of any other preacher, that the first

quality of an orator is a heart burning with love and with fervent

emotion. _Pectus facit oratorem._ This man had received from God the

excellent gift of penetrating the souls of those who heard him with a

divine fire[50] which animated all their deeds of piety and fitted them

to endure lovingly the cross with which they were threatened. Christ

was with him in his ministry, says one of those who were converted

by him; and this divine Master himself engraved, by the virtue of his

Spirit, the words of his servant on the hearts of his hearers.[51]

Valerio was the layman of the Reformation; Egidius became its minister.

[Sidenote: PONCE DE LA FUENTE AND VARGAS.]

He was not long alone. During his residence at Alcala, three students

were observed to be united in close friendship with each other. These

were John Egidius, Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, and Vargas. Now

these two old fellow-students arrived at Seville. The Castilian,

Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, was born at St. Clement, in the diocese

of Cuença. The inhabitants of these districts concealed under an aspect

of coldness a free and boisterous gaiety. Ponce de la Fuente was

certainly one of these people. He had a caustic humor, was a lover of

pleasure, and ardent in all that he did. His youth had been somewhat

dissipated, and for this he was afterwards reproached by his enemies.

But he possessed also good sense and a moral disposition, which soon

led him to embrace a more regular life, even before he was acquainted

with the Gospel. He never lost, however, his cheerfulness and his wit.

He was animated by a strong desire to gain solid knowledge, and at the

same time he felt great aversion to the pedantry and barbarism of the

schools. In some respects he was like Erasmus. He was a son of the

Renaissance, and, like his master, enjoyed ridiculing the ignorance of

the monks, the fooleries of the preachers, and the hypocrisy of the

pharisees. Although he had not the genius of the great man of letters,

in some points he surpassed him. There was more depth in his faith and

more decision in his character. Contradictory qualities met in his

nature. He would hurl in all directions his satirical darts, and yet he

was full of benevolence and generosity, and was always ready to give

assistance to any one. It was, moreover, said of him that no one ever

loved or hated him moderately. His acquaintance with the human heart,

his knowledge of the egotism and the indifference which are found even

in the best men, made him very scrupulous in the selection of his

friends. But he deeply loved the few to whom he was attached; and with

his great acquirements he combined a free and cordial manner.

Ponce de la Fuente was apparently detained at Seville by the report

of the conversion of Egidius and of the great sensation which his

discourses were producing in that town. Like Vargas, he hungered and

thirsted for a truth which should satisfy all his wants, and which was

as yet unknown to him. That which these two were still in search of,

they learnt that the third had found. They hastened to his presence.

They found Egidius convinced that the knowledge of Christ surpasses

every thing besides, so that in order to obtain it there is nothing

which ought not to be given up. He had found it the chief good. He had

gained it by faith, and he was prepared for the sake of keeping it to

lose all that he possessed. The communion of the three friends became

more and more intimate, their friendship sweeter and sweeter.[52] In

their intercourse with each other they found so much solace and so much

profit to their souls that when they were parted they sighed for the

moment when they should meet again. Their souls were one. Egidius made

known evangelical truth to his old fellow-students; and on their part

Vargas, and still more de la Fuente, 'the extent of whose knowledge

was marvellous,'[53] gave him a wholesome impulse, under the influence

of which he made rapid progress both in sound literature and true

theology. The brotherly affection which united them filled their hearts

with joy; and this joy, says a reformer, was perfumed with the sweet

odor of the service of God.

[Sidenote: HARMONIOUS ACTION.]

The three friends formed a plan, and combined their efforts to spread

true piety around them. Egidius and de la Fuente divided between

them the work of preaching. Their manner of speaking differed. While

Egidius had much openness of heart, de la Fuente had much openness of

intellect. In the discourses of Egidius there was more fire; more light

in those of de la Fuente. The former took souls captive; the latter

enlightened understandings, and obtained, says a historian,[54] as

much and even more applause than his master. This means doubtless that

his influence was still more powerful. Vargas had undertaken another

department, that of practical exegesis. At first he explained in the

church the Gospel according to St. Matthew, as Zwingli had done at

Zurich; and afterwards the Psalms.[55] These three evangelists spoke

with a sacred authority, and with admirable unity. 'What harmony,'

people said, 'prevails between Egidius, Constantine, and Vargas!' But

nobody suspected that the word spoken by these three powerful teachers

was the evangelical doctrine then being preached by Luther, Farel,

and the other reformers. There was no more reference to them in the

discourses of the Spaniards than if they had not existed. All those

souls which thirsted for the truth would have been alarmed at the names

of these men, heretics in their eyes; but they were attracted by the

words full of grace and truth which were those of John, Peter, and

Paul, nay, rather of Jesus himself. The sheep entered into the fold in

which were already those who were elsewhere called by Melanchthon and

by Calvin, without in the least suspecting the fact. Their strong but

invisible bond of union was Christ, whose grace operated silently but

with the same efficacy on the banks of the Elbe, the Rhone, and the

Guadalquivir.

The reputation of Ponce de la Fuente was ere long as widespread as that

of Egidius. There was one feature in his character which doubled, nay,

which multiplied a hundredfold the force and result of his preaching.

He was free from vanity. This besetting sin of the orator, a vice

which paralyses his influence, had no place in him. He was quite

exempt from that exalted opinion of himself which is so natural to the

human heart, and especially to the public speaker. He had recovered

the first of all loves--the love of God; and this so filled his soul

that it left no room for any other. He was indifferent to the praises

of his hearers, and his only thought was how to win their hearts for

God. His reputation procured him several calls. The chapter of Cuença

unanimously invited him to be preacher at the cathedral. By accepting

the invitation he would have gained an honorable position in his own

province; but he chose rather to remain the curate of Egidius. Some

time afterwards a deputation arrived at Seville, commissioned to

announce to de la Fuente that he was called to succeed the titular

bishop of Utica as preacher at the metropolitan church of Toledo, an

office of high honor and very much sought after.[56] No one doubted

that he would accept a place which was the object of ambition to so

many men. De la Fuente, having no wish to leave Seville, where a great

door was opened to him, declined the offer. The canons persisted in

their application, pressed him and seemed bent on compelling him. In

order to get rid of their importunity, Ponce availed himself of an

objection which was certainly in character with the turn of his mind.

In the church of Toledo a dispute was at this time going on between

several members of the chapter and the cardinalarchbishop John de

Martinez Siliceo, who had decreed that the candidates elected by

the chapter should be bound to prove that they were descended from

blameless ancestors. Now de la Fuente had no reason to fear this rule

more than any other; but being driven to extremities, he replied to the

deputies with an arch smile that 'the bones of his ancestors had rested

in peace for many years, and that he would not disturb their repose.'

[Sidenote: OPPOSITION.]

It was inevitable that the labors of these evangelical men should

arouse at Seville a lively opposition. The more the hearers of the

three evangelists were rescued by their preaching from the darkness

of ignorance, and the more they shook off the dust of the middle

ages, so much the more they esteemed the noble men to whom they

were indebted for the light, and the less respect they felt for the

troop of hypocrites who had so long destroyed their souls by their

teaching.[57] Consequently the palace of the Inquisition resounded with

complaints, and nothing but threats was to be heard in the castle of

Triana, situated in a suburb of Seville, in which the tribunal of the

holy office was established. The evangelists, however, had friends so

numerous and so powerful that the inquisitors did not dare at present

to attack them. They turned their attention to the other preachers,

endeavored to awaken them, and implored them to defend the faith of

Rome, now so terribly shaken. And, in fact, the priests attached

to ancient superstitions ere long arose as out of a long sleep and

warmed their torpid zeal. The fire of Rome, well-nigh extinct, was

rekindled. There were two camps in Seville. Over the cathedral floated

the banner of the Gospel; in almost all the other churches was raised

the flag of the papacy. A contemporary asserts that it was the flag

of Epictetus, and he thinks that these priests were rather inferior

to the Stoic philosopher.[58] 'Unstring your rosaries and your beads

more frequently,' said the priests; 'get many masses said; abstain from

meat; go on pilgrimage; have such and such dresses, such an aspect, and

other poor things of the like kind.'[59] 'A fine mask of piety,' people

used to say; 'but if you examine these things more closely, what do you

find?' At the cathedral, on the contrary, the preachers urged their

hearers to read the Holy Scriptures; they set forth the merits of a

crucified Saviour and called upon men to place all their trust in him.

The evangelical preachers were fewer in number than the others, but

around them were gathered the best part of the population. Gradually

the books of the Roman service were laid aside and gave place to the

Gospel. Many hearts were attracted by the Word of God. The religion

of form lost many of its adherents, and the religion of the spirit

gained them. Among these were several inmates of the convent of the

Hieronymites, in San Isidro del Campo. But for the Inquisition, the

Reformation would have transformed Spain, and secured the prosperity

and welfare of its people.

[Sidenote: ELOQUENCE OF DE LA FUENTE.]

Ponce de la Fuente, above all, charmed his hearers not only by the

beauty of the doctrine which he proclaimed, but also by the purity

and elegance of his language, and by the overpowering bursts of his

eloquence. Those who heard it exclaimed, 'A miracle!'[60] Ponce was

a great observer, and this both by nature and by choice. He took his

stand as it were upon a height, and set himself to consider attentively

all that presented itself to him--physical phenomena, moral affections,

and human affairs.[61] By means of his learning, his experience, and

his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, he was able to contemplate as

from an elevated position all things human and divine. He had also an

accurate judgment, a quality of the first importance to a preacher. He

had a sense of the just value of things; discretion not only guided

him in all his actions, but also inspired all his words. This explains

the popularity which he ere long enjoyed. In his view the tact of

the orator should teach him to avoid whatever would uselessly shock

the hearer, and to seek after every thing which could bring souls to

salvation. On the days when he preached, Seville cathedral presented

the finest spectacle. His service was usually at eight o'clock in the

morning; and the concourse of people was so great that as early as four

o'clock, frequently even at three, hardly a place in the church was

left vacant.[62] It was openly asserted in Seville that Ponce de la

Fuente surpassed the most illustrious orators of his own age and of the

age which had preceded it.[63] In spite of the extraordinary popularity

which he enjoyed, he had remained one of the simplest of men, free from

the love of money, without ambition, satisfied with frugal diet, with

a small library, and not caring for that wealth for the sake of which

certain public pests, said one of his friends, ravaged the church of

God. He had given proof of this by refusing the rich canonry of Toledo.

During many years Seville, more fortunate in this respect than any

other town in Spain,[64] heard the pure Gospel of Christ proclaimed.

Besides the service in the cathedral, there were meetings of a more

private character in some of the houses. The abundant harvest which

the fertile soil of Spain afterwards yielded was the fruit of these

laborious sowings.[65] De la Fuente, Egidius, and Vargas, men as

remarkable for their doctrine as for their life, were the first great

sowers of the good seed in the Peninsula. 'They deserve,' said one of

their good friends, 'to be held in perpetual remembrance.' Who can tell

what might have happened in Spain if the work of these three associated

Christians could have been longer carried on? But on a sudden Egidius

found himself deprived of his two companions in arms, and this in most

diverse ways.

Charles the Fifth happened to be in Spain just at the time when Ponce

de la Fuente was achieving the greatest success. The emperor came to

Seville; and in consequence of the high praise of the preacher which

reached him from all quarters he wished to hear him. Charles was

delighted. He was fond of fine things, and the same doctrines which,

when professed in Belgium, in some obscure conventicle by a cutler

or a furrier, he punished as frightful heresies, did not offend him

when they came from the lips of a great orator, and were proclaimed

to an immense crowd in the most beautiful church in Spain. He almost

believed that talent was orthodox. We have moreover remarked that one

of the characteristics of de la Fuente was to preach the pure Gospel,

avoiding every thing which might shock his hearers. The emperor sent

for him to the palace. Charmed with his conversation, his intelligence,

and his polished and agreeable manners, he named him one of his

chaplains. To this appointment he soon added the office of almoner,

and invited him to follow him beyond the Pyrenees. De la Fuente, being

attached to Seville, would gladly have declined the call, as he had

those from Cuença and Toledo. But this time it was his sovereign

who called him. The will of Charles the Fifth was law, and there was

no way of escape. Moreover this call, in his judgment, came from God

himself. He, therefore, prepared for his departure. Strange to say, the

emperor charged him to accompany his son Philip into the Netherlands

and to England.[66] 'I intend,' he said, 'to show the Flemings that

Spain is not without her amiable scholars and eminent orators.' De la

Fuente, therefore, accompanied Philip. He afterwards rejoined Charles

in Germany, discharged the duties of chaplain to him, and had the

opportunity of making the acquaintance of some of the reformers.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF VARGAS.]

The departure of Ponce de la Fuente left the Roman party at Seville

more at ease. They resolved now to get rid first of Vargas. This

theologian, who perhaps had neither the tact of de la Fuente nor

the fervor of Egidius, was just on the point of being cited before

the tribunals when he died. Egidius thus left alone felt keenly the

loss of his friends. He was to have no more intimate communion, no

more familiar conversations. The illustrious preacher encountered

everywhere hostile looks, and had no longer a friendly ear into

which he could pour his sorrow. His singular openheartedness exposed

him more than others to hatred. Simple and candid, when called to

speak from the chief pulpit at Seville, he attacked the enemies of

the light more openly and more frequently than his colleagues had

done.[67] Consequently, his adversaries, full of anger against him,

put into circulation the most unfavorable reports of his orthodoxy.

They surrounded him with secret agents, who were instructed to pick

up his sayings and to spy out his proceedings; and they schemed among

themselves what course they must take to get rid of a man whom they

detested. Egidius was left alone; but even alone he was a power

in Seville. If his enemies could succeed in overthrowing him, the

Inquisition would then reign without a rival. Unfortunately for

these fanatical men, Egidius counted a large number of friends among

all classes. After a careful examination of all the circumstances,

they had not courage publicly to accuse him. There was need of the

brilliant popularity of which he was subsequently the object to raise

their irritation to such a pitch that they determined to proceed to

extremities.

[Sidenote: VALERIO CONDEMNED.]

The inquisitors did not stop here. Rodrigo de Valerio, after having

been set at liberty, on the ground, they said, that he was merely mad,

had refrained, by the desire of his friends, from publicly preaching

the Gospel. Unwilling, however, to do absolutely nothing, he had

gathered together a certain number of his friends and had in a familiar

way interpreted to them the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, that

ocean, as Chrysostom called it, which meets us everywhere at the

beginning of the awakenings.[68] Some of those who listened to him

persevered in the faith; others, at a later time, rejected it. Among

the latter in particular was Peter Diaz, who having forsaken the Gospel

entered the Society of Jesuits and died at Mexico.[69] But the brave

Rodrigo could not long submit to this restriction. Ought he to shrink,

he said to himself, from exposing his liberty, or even his life, when

the Gospel was at stake? Others had given their lives for a less object

than this. He was in hope, moreover, of arousing by his own example

other combatants who should finally win the victory. He, therefore,

laid aside timid precautions and began again to point out publicly the

errors and superstitions of Rome. He was once more denounced, and was

arrested by the Inquisition, which was quite determined this time not

to let slip the pretended madman. He was sentenced to imprisonment for

life and to wear the _san benito_, a cloak of a yellow color, the usual

garb of the victims of the Inquisition. Every Sunday and feast-day,

Valerio was taken, as well as other penitents, by the familiars of the

holy office to Saint Saviour's Church, at Seville, to hear both the

sermon and the high mass. He appeared as a penitent without repentance.

He could not listen to the doctrine of the monks without in some way

showing his opposition to it. He would sometimes rise from his seat,

and, while the whole assembly fixed their eyes on him, put questions

to the preacher, refute his doctrines, and entreat his hearers to take

care they did not receive them.[70] Rodrigo could not hear a doctrine

contrary to the Gospel without his whole soul being stirred within him.

The inquisitors, steadily persuaded of his madness, at first excused

these interpellations, which to them seemed to be the clearest proof of

his malady. But the discourses of this insane man were so reasonable

that they produced an impression. The inquisitors at length confined

him in a convent on the coast of San Lucar, where all society was

forbidden him; and here he died at about the age of fifty. His _san

benito_ was exhibited in the metropolitan Church of Seville, with this

inscription:--_Rodrigo Valerio, a false apostle who gave out that he

was sent of God_. It was after the departure of de la Fuente from

Seville that the final sentence was pronounced against Valerio.

CHAPTER III.

SPAIN OUT OF SPAIN.

(1537-1545.)

The Spaniards who at this epoch distinguished themselves by the purest

faith were those who, having been by various circumstances transported

into Germany and the Netherlands, were there brought into contact with

the Reformation and its most remarkable men. Thus it happens that

respecting these we possess the most detailed information. We are,

therefore, called to look in this chapter and the following ones at

_Spain out of Spain_.

[Sidenote: THE THREE ENZINAS.]

While Seville was a great evangelical centre in the South, and the

foremost town in Spain at the epoch of the Reformation, there were

also cities in the north of the Peninsula, which were distinguished

by some remarkable features, particularly Valladolid and Burgos. The

latter town, situated in a fertile country, and once the capital of

Castile, gave birth to four young men, who were afterwards noted for

their devotion to the Gospel, but who spent most of their lives beyond

the Pyrenees. These were James, Francis and John de Enzinas, sons of

a respectable citizen of Burgos, who had kinsmen of noble rank and

high connections, and Francis San Romano, of more humble origin, but

whose parents were 'good honest people.' His father was alcalde of

Bribiesca. These four young men, almost of the same age, were comrades

at Burgos.[71] For various reasons they quitted the town in their

youth. The father of the Enzinas, a man in his way ambitious for his

children, and holding firmly by his authority as a father, continued

to rule his sons even after they had attained their majority. He sent

them to complete their education at the university of Louvain, partly

because the course of study there was of a more liberal cast than in

Spain, and partly because he had kinsmen settled in the Netherlands,

some of whom were at the court and enjoyed the favor of Charles the

Fifth. It appeared to him that a fine career was there open to their

ambition, and that they would perhaps ultimately rise to the high

position of their father. They were indeed to find a career, but one of

a more noble and glorious kind.

The Enzinas, having arrived in the Netherlands before 1540, applied

themselves zealously to their studies. They were all of them, and

especially Francis, desirous of discovering all that was true and

good, fully determined to communicate to others the truths which they

had acquired, filled with courage to defend them against all attacks

and with perseverance to continue in the face of danger faithful to

their convictions.[72] They had the Spanish temperament, depth and

fervor of soul, seriousness and reflectiveness of understanding; and

some faults of their nature were corrected by Christian faith. Their

language had not only stateliness but thought. The sense of honor did

not in them degenerate into pride, as is so often the case; and their

religious faith, by the influence of the Gospel, was preserved from

superstition. They have been known under different names in different

countries. Their family name, Enzinas, which in Spanish denotes a

species of oak, was as usual hellenized in Germany, where they bore the

name of Dryander, and was turned into French in France, where they were

sometimes called Duchesne.

These three young men had a taste for literature, and made rapid

progress in it. While the truly noble and liberal bent of their

intellect separated them from the theologians who were virtually

imprisoned within the walls of the Scholastic method and doctrine,

their naturally religious disposition, the common characteristic of

their countrymen, led them to seek out the pious men of their day. Two

of these were the means of bringing them over from Roman Catholicism to

evangelical Protestantism; both of them conciliatory men, who, though

they belonged especially to one of the two categories, maintained at

the same time some relations with the other. One of them stood on the

Catholic side, the other on the Protestant; but they had both been

desirous of bringing about a reconciliation between the Reformation

and Catholicism. One of these men was George Cassander, born in 1515,

probably in the island of Cassandria, at the mouth of the Scheldt.

He was a good scholar, and was a perfect master of languages and

literature, law and theology, and taught with great reputation in

various universities in the Netherlands. Sincerely pious, he made

it the purpose of his life to demonstrate the agreement of the two

parties in essential doctrines and to endeavor to unite them. With

this intent he published various works.[73] The emperor Ferdinand at a

later time requested him to work for this end. The Enzinas associated

themselves with him. An intimate friendship grew up between them; they

had frequent conversations and wrote to each other when separated.[74]

But while the Catholics thought that Cassander conceded too much to

the Protestants, the latter, and especially Calvin, complained that

he conceded too much to the Catholics. He did, in fact, remain always

united with the Roman church, declared that he submitted to its

judgment, and openly condemned _schism_ and its authors.

The three brothers, endowed with an honest spirit, were resolved

to get to the bottom of things. The spirit of Cassander, timid, as

they thought, and the inadequacy of the reforms which he allowed

to be desirable, displeased them; and they gradually withdrew from

him. They looked for better guides, and studied the Holy Scriptures.

By public report they heard of Melanchthon, and they began to read

and to meditate on his writings. He was their second teacher, more

enlightened, more evangelical, and more illustrious than the first.

Melanchthon laid open to their understanding in a luminous manner the

sacred Epistles. He revealed to his reader the grace of Jesus Christ,

and this without the asperity and the violent language which are

sometimes to be met with in Luther. Melanchthon's moderation charmed

them. They had found their master.

[Sidenote: FRANCIS ENZINAS.]

About the close of 1537, Francis Enzinas, then from twenty to

twenty-five years of age, was recalled by his family to Burgos. His

relative, Peter de Lerma, had just been prosecuted by the Inquisition.

It was supposed that the views for which proceedings had been taken

against him were to be attributed to his sojourn at Paris. Those

inhabitants of Burgos who had sent their sons to foreign universities

were alarmed lest their children and themselves should be subjected to

the severities of the Inquisition. This was mainly the cause of the

return of Francis to Burgos. 'At that time,' says he, 'I was assailed

by earnest remonstrances on the part of my parents, and I began to be

looked on with suspicion by many great persons, because I would not

comply with their requirements and give up the studies, the savor of

which I had already tasted.'[75] His aged uncle, Peter de Lerma, was at

this time at Burgos. Francis went to see him, and found him unhappy and

dispirited, unable to reconcile himself to the thought of living in a

country where a man must either be in agreement with the Inquisition or

become its victim. 'Ah!' said he, 'I can no longer remain in Spain. It

is impossible for men of learning to dwell in safety in the midst of so

many persecutors.' What though he was now nearly eighty years old? What

though he must renounce, if he quitted Spain, all his goods and all his

honors? He determined to seek after another abode in which he might end

his days in peace. He would not hear of delay either on account of the

season of the year, when storms are most to be dreaded, or on account

of the war which was raging beyond the Pyrenees. He was resolved to

leave Spain immediately. Perhaps he was encouraged not to put off his

departure by the thought that the younger Enzinas might be of some

service to him in carrying out his project. The old man embarked on a

vessel which was sailing for Flanders. On his arrival there he betook

himself to Paris, where he had formerly resided. During his first

stay in the capital of France, De Lerma had been made doctor of the

Sorbonne; he now found himself the most aged member of the University.

His friends, persuaded that he had been persecuted unjustly, received

him with much respect. He spent four years at Paris.

Francis had returned to Louvain. A great thought had by this time taken

possession of his mind. His supreme desire was to see Spain converted

to the Gospel. Now what means so mighty for this end as to give to

the land the Word of God, and what a happiness it would be for him to

enrich his native country with this treasure! In former ages the Bible

had been translated, but the Inquisition had flung it into the flames.

Hardly a single copy had escaped;[76] and Spaniards proudly boasted of

the fact that their language had never served to dishonor the Book of

God by exposing it to profane eyes. Enzinas, in common with others,

supposed that the New Testament had never yet been translated into

Spanish. He therefore zealously undertook this task, but when he had

made a beginning he felt that it was not in the Netherlands that he

could conveniently accomplish it. The superstitions prevalent around

him, and the annoyances which he had to endure on the part of the

fanatical ultramontanes, made him ardently long to leave Louvain. At

the same time he felt the need of a visit to Wittenberg, to talk over

his work with Luther and Melanchthon, that he might profit by their

larger knowledge. He was already acquainted with their writings, but he

wished for their counsel, and desired an introduction to them.

[Sidenote: ENZINAS AND ALASCO.]

[Sidenote: LETTER OF ENZINAS.]

Enzinas had met Alasco at Louvain in 1536, when the latter, after

leaving Poland, had directed his steps to the Netherlands. He had been

struck with the aspect, at once serious and gentle, of the Polish

noble, and he had admired the air of stateliness and dignity which

invested his whole person.[77] But he had not yet perceived 'the

treasures which lay hidden in the depth of his soul.' Subsequently,

Albert Hardenberg arrived at Louvain. They talked together about John

Alasco, and Hardenberg expressed himself with all the warmth of a

friend. 'How can I name to you,' he said, 'all the gifts which God has

bestowed on him, his eminent piety, his pure religion, the sweetness

and the benevolence of his disposition, his wonderful acquaintance

with all the liberal sciences, his aptitude for languages?... In these

respects he surpasses all other men.'[78] These words of Hardenberg

kindled in the heart of Enzinas a warm love for Alasco; and ere long,

he says, the little spark became a great flame.[79] He would fain

have gone to him in all haste; but he was detained at Louvain by

insuperable obstacles. He attempted to write to him; but when he read

over his letter, abashed and anxious, he threw it away. At last he set

out; but when he had reached Antwerp he found himself compelled to

go back to Louvain. Not long after his return he heard that Alasco's

wife was there. She was, as we have seen, a native of this town.

Francis hastened to her dwelling. He saw the wife and the daughter

of his friend; he almost fancied that he saw the friend himself. He

availed himself of the opportunity to write to the man for whom he had

conceived one of those great and intense affections which are sometimes

found in healthy natures. He wrote to Alasco as a soldier who stands

near his captain. It appears that his parents had destined him for a

military career, and he knew the almost inflexible will of his father.

He had had conflicts to go through. A Spanish noble, doubtless for the

purpose of encouraging him to enter upon the career which his father

had chosen, had presented him with a beautiful and antique sword.

'Although,' wrote the young soldier of Christ to Alasco, 'I should see

the whole world taking up arms against me, because in spite of the

advice of respected men I dedicate myself to study, I would not slight

the gifts which God in his goodness, and without any deservings on my

part, has given me. I will strive like a man to propagate the truth

which God has revealed to us. But for this purpose I must fly far from

this Babylonish captivity, and betake myself to some place where piety

is not proscribed, and where a man may devote himself to noble studies.

I have decided to go to Wittenberg, to the university which possesses

so many learned professors, where knowledge of such various kinds is

to be found, and which enjoys the approbation of all good men. I think

so highly of the knowledge, the judgment, and the gift of teaching of

Philip Melanchthon, that for his sake alone, to enjoy the conversation

and the instruction of so great a man, I would fly to the ends of the

world.[80] Aid me in my project. This you may do by giving me letters

to facilitate my access to Luther, Melanchthon, and other scholars, and

to obtain for me their kindly regard.'

This was not all. Enzinas delivered to Alasco's wife, as an act of

homage to her husband, the antique and valuable sword presented to him

by a Spanish noble. 'You will say to me,' he adds, '"What would you

have me do with a sword?" I know that you are armed with a better, one

which penetrates deeper than any other, the Word of God. But I send you

this as a token of the love that I bear to you, and of the respect that

I feel for the gifts which God has given you.' This letter is dated May

10, 1541.

Francis Enzinas was not able to go immediately to Wittenberg. He had

to undertake a journey to Paris in the summer of 1541, partly to see

his elder brother then residing there, and partly to attend on his aged

uncle, Peter de Lerma, who was now drawing near to his end. The young

man was thus with his aged kinsman on two most solemn occasions--his

departure from Spain, and his death. Francis found him weakened, but

still enjoying the use of his fine faculties. He went frequently to

see him, and they had long and confidential interviews. The suavity of

the old man, and his seriousness unmixed with severity, charmed and

delighted Francis,[81] who from infancy had always loved and honored

his relative, and now esteemed it a privilege to testify to the last

his respectful affection. His parents wrote to him from Burgos to

take the greatest care of his aged uncle. He therefore went daily to

see him, and his visits made glad the heart of the old man. Suddenly,

in the month of August 1541, Peter de Lerma exchanged the miseries

of this world for the joys of the life eternal.[82] The patriarch

of eighty-five and the youth of twenty-five were together at this

solemn moment. Life was just beginning for Francis at the time when

it was ending for his uncle; and the former, like the latter, was to

experience all its burdens. As the sole representative of the family,

he gave the old man honor and reverence till his death.[83]

At Paris, Francis had found, as we have stated, his elder brother

James, who had gone thither by his father's command to complete his

studies; and it is possible that this interview may have been the

real purpose of his journey. James had, like his brother, a noble and

independent mind, a sensitive conscience, and a pure and innocent

nature which unsuspectingly showed itself as it was. This openness of

character exposed him to great danger. To these qualities he added

a very refined taste, which enabled him to appreciate instinctively

the works of intellect and the productions of art. James was already

convinced of the great truths of the Gospel, but his faith was

strengthened during his stay at Paris; and he exerted a beneficial

influence on some of his fellow-countrymen who were studying there at

the same time.

[Sidenote: MARTYRDOM OF LEPEINTRE.]

In this capital he did not find every thing answering to his

expectation. The professors were mostly bigots, who had a very small

stock of knowledge, but nevertheless assumed a consequential air,

although the little philosophy which they possessed made them really

less intelligent than if they had had none at all. The students had

little good-breeding, nor did they show any desire for really liberal

researches. James Enzinas was deeply moved by the heroism of the

martyrs, and the cruelty of their executioners made him shudder. One

day a very young man named Claude Lepeintre, about twenty years of

age, was conducted to the Place Maubert, to suffer there the last

penalty. He had resided three years at Geneva, serving, it appears, an

apprenticeship to a goldsmith. In that city he had found the Gospel.

After his return to Paris, his native place, 'he had endeavored to

impart to his friends the knowledge of eternal salvation.' Some people

of the house in which he carried on his trade as a goldsmith 'could

not endure the sweet savor of the Gospel of the Son of God,' and

therefore took him before the criminal judge, who condemned him to be

burnt alive. He appealed to the parliament, which, as Claude refused to

recant, added that he should forthwith have his tongue cut out. Without

change of countenance the pious young Christian presented his tongue to

the executioner, who seized it with pincers and cut it off. It is even

added that with it he struck the martyr several blows on the cheek. He

was then placed in a car to be taken to the stake. Several evangelical

Christians, students and others, such as James Enzinas, his friend the

advocate Crespin, and Eustace of Knobelsdorf, would not leave him till

his death. His martyrdom was described by all three of them. While on

his way to the Place Maubert he was subjected, say these eye-witnesses,

to 'numberless insults which they cast at him. But it was wonderful

to see his self-possession and constancy, and how he passed on with

a light heart. It might have been thought that he was going to a

banquet.' He alighted of his own accord from the car, and stood by the

post to which they bound him by coiling chains about his body. The

crowd excited against him assailed him with outcries and insults; but

he bore them with unspeakable calmness. His tongue having been torn

out, he could not speak; but his eyes were steadily fixed on heaven,

as on the abode which he was about to enter, and whence he looked for

help. The executioner covered his head with brimstone, and when he had

finished showed him with a threatening air the lighted torch with which

he was going to set fire to the pile. The young martyr made a sign that

he would willingly suffer this death. 'This youth,' says Knobelsdorf,

one of the eye-witnesses, 'seemed to be raised to a more than human

elevation.' 'This most happy end,' says another witness, Crespin,

'confirmed those who had begun to have some sense of the truth, to

which the Lord gave before our eyes a true and living testimony in the

person of Claude.'[84]

James had employed his leisure hours in composing in Spanish a

catechism which he thought adapted to impress on the minds of his

countrymen the great truths of the Gospel. Confirmed in his faith by

the martyrdom of Claude Lepeintre, weary of his Paris life, and anxious

to publish his work, he went to Louvain and thence to Antwerp. This

town offered facilities for printing it, and the ships bound for Spain

easily conveyed the books when printed into that country. Francis,

on his return from Paris, stayed for some time in Belgium, and next

went to Wittenberg, where freedom of studies was possible, and where

Melanchthon was to be found.

John Enzinas, the youngest of the three brothers, was also a lover

of the Gospel; but he led a more peaceful life than the elder ones.

He had chosen the medical profession, and had settled in Germany. He

became a professor at the university of Marburg, and acquired a certain

reputation by his works on medicine and astronomy, and by the invention

of various instruments useful for the advancement of those sciences.

But in the annals of the Reformation his name is less conspicuous than

those of his brothers.

[Sidenote: SAN ROMANO.]

Another young Spaniard, like the Enzinas a native of Burgos, and a

friend of theirs, was in 1540 at Antwerp, whither James had already

gone, and Francis likewise was to go. San Romano, of whom we have

previously made mention, had devoted himself to trade, and his

business affairs had called him into the Netherlands. There was a

fair-time at Antwerp, during which it was usual for the merchants of

various countries to settle their accounts. As San Romano was a very

intelligent young man, and was, moreover, already acquainted with

the merchants of Bremen, he was commissioned by their creditors, his

countrymen, to go to Bremen to claim and receive what was owing to

them. Another Spaniard was associated with him. It will be remembered

that Jacob Spreng, provost of the Augustines of Antwerp, had taken

refuge in this town after his escape from the persecutions of the

inquisitors. He was now preaching the Gospel there with much power.[85]

San Romano, whose business had not concluded so quickly as he might

have wished, was desirous of learning something about the doctrine

which was being preached in Germany, and which was hated in Spain.

Although he knew very little of German, he entered the church. He

drew near, he listened, and his attention was soon riveted. To his

great surprise he understood the whole sermon.[86] He was intensely

interested, enlightened, and convinced. He felt pierced as by an arrow

from the hand of God,[87] and was greatly moved. The orator's discourse

made his heart burn within him.[88] Something new and strange was going

on. No sooner was the service over than, forgetting all matters of

business, he hastened to the preacher. The latter received him with

much kindness and took him to his house.

There, when they were alone, San Romano recalled to Spreng what he had

said, repeating the whole discourse as if he had learnt it by heart.

He told him the impressions which it had produced on his heart, and

thus earnestly entreated him: 'Pray explain to me more clearly this

doctrine which I begin to relish, but which I do not yet thoroughly

understand.' The pastor marvelled at the vehemence of the young man and

at his sudden conversion. The liveliness of his new-born faith, which

seemed resolved to subdue every thing, this first ardor of a striking

transformation, astonished him. He counselled San Romano to restrain

himself and not to fail in prudence; but at the same time he taught him

carefully and kindly the great truths of salvation. San Romano remained

for three days in the pastor's house. Nothing could induce him to go

out. He had seemingly forgotten the business on which he had come to

Bremen. A divine light shone more and more clearly in his mind. During

these three days he was completely changed, like Paul at Damascus, and

became a new man.[89]

When this time had elapsed, San Romano went to pay some attention to

his business, entrusted it to his companion, and then several times

returned to converse further with his new guide. The words of the

Gospel had laid hold on him; they were his only theme of thought by

day, his only dream by night.[90] He would not miss one of Spreng's

sermons. When he returned to his abode he wrote them down and then

read them over to the pastor. More than this--he openly professed the

truth which he had learned. 'This man,' thought Spreng, 'is certainly

not like the rest of the world. Other men make a gradual progress,

but he has learnt all in a few days. He seems to be saturated with

the Word of God, although apparently he has read so little of it.

He despises the world and the life of the world; he despises every

thing for Christ, whose Word he fearlessly spreads abroad.'[91] He was

anxious not only for the salvation of those about him, but wrote long

letters to his friends at Antwerp. 'I give thanks to God,' he said

to them, 'who led me to a man by whose instrumentality I found Jesus

Christ, my true Saviour, and from whom I have gained a knowledge of

the Holy Scriptures, which I can not sufficiently prize.' He exhorted

them all to turn to God, if they would not perish forever with those

who led them astray. Lamenting the cruelty of Spain and the blindness

of the Spaniards, 'Alas!' he said, 'they will not open their eyes to

contemplate the glorious light of the Gospel, nor give attentive ear

or mind to the manifest counsels of God who calls them to repentance.'

He therefore formed a resolution. 'I purpose,' said he, 'returning to

Antwerp, to see whether the light of divine knowledge may not enlighten

the hearts of my friends. I shall then proceed to Spain, to endeavor

to convert to the true worship of God my relations and our whole city,

which is at present shrouded in the horrible darkness of idolatry.'[92]

In the ardor of his first love, San Romano imagined that nothing could

resist a truth, all the sweetness and power of which he himself knew so

well. But, alas! it was by the flames of martyrdom that he was destined

to illuminate his country.

[Sidenote: HIS LETTERS TO CHARLES V.]

His zeal no longer knew any limits. He wrote to Charles the Fifth

earnestly conjuring him to acknowledge worthily the great benefits

of God, by faithfully fulfilling his duty. 'Allay the dissensions of

Christendom,' he said, 'that the glory of God may by your means be

made manifest in the world; re-establish in Spain and in every country

which is subject to your sway the pure doctrine of Christ our Saviour.'

San Romano wrote thus two or three times to the emperor. At the same

time he wrote some evangelical books in Spanish. All this was done in

one month, or at most in forty days, while he was awaiting the answer

to the letters which he had written to Antwerp.

These had been well received by his friends, and they had instantly

understood from what malady he was suffering.[93] Far from thinking

of their own salvation as he implored them, they only thought how to

ruin him, and set all their ingenuity to work to entrap him. 'Ah!'

they wrote in terms of endearment, 'if only you return to Antwerp,

the great things of which you speak will, without the least doubt, be

accomplished.' At the same time they came to an understanding with the

Dominican monks, some of whom they appointed to watch for the moment at

which he should enter the city. 'You are to seize on him,' said they,

'you are to question him about his father, and if he differs from you

in the least on this subject you are to put him to death, or throw him

into some pit in which he will be buried as a living corpse.'[94]

[Sidenote: ARREST OF SAN ROMANO.]

The poor man, whom the answer of his friends had filled with hope and

joy, mounted on horseback, saying to himself that he should be able

without great difficulty to convert all the Spaniards to the true

religion. He arrived, passed the gates, and entered the town; but

all at once the monks in ambush surrounded him, dragged him from his

horse, and led him off as a prisoner to the house of a tradesman who

was devoted to their cause.[95] There they bound him hand and foot and

began searching his baggage. They found in it a good many books in

German, French, and Latin; some were by Luther, others by Melanchthon,

and the rest by Œcolampadius and other equally suspected authors.

They even discovered, to their great horror, insulting pictures of

the pope. They turned angrily to him, saying, 'Thou art a perfect

Lutheran.' San Romano, having fallen so unexpectedly into an ambush,

was confused, excited, and inflamed with wrath. He was a true Spaniard,

calm while nothing disturbed him, but when hurt in any way, giving vent

to the passions of a soul on fire. He had known the Gospel too short

a time to have become wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. He

was no longer master of himself. 'You are rascals,'[96] he exclaimed.

'I am not a Lutheran, but I profess the eternal wisdom of the Son

of God, whom ye hate. And as to your dreams, your impostures, your

corrupt doctrines, I abhor them with all my heart.' 'What, then, is thy

religion?' asked the monks. 'I believe in God the Father, Creator of

all,' replied San Romano, 'and I believe in God the Son, Jesus Christ,

who redeemed mankind by his blood, and who by delivering them from the

bondage of the devil, of sin, and of death, established them in the

liberty of the Gospel.' 'Dost thou believe,' asked the monks, 'that

the pope of Rome is the vicar of Christ, that all the treasures of the

church are in his hands, and that he has power to make new articles

of faith and to abolish the others?' 'I believe nothing of the sort,'

exclaimed San Romano, horrified. 'I believe that the pope, like a wolf,

disperses, leads astray, and tears in pieces the poor sheep of Jesus

Christ.' 'He blasphemes!' said the Spaniards. 'You shall be put to

death, and by fire,' cried the monks. 'I am not afraid to die,' replied

he, 'for him who shed his blood for me.' The monks then lighted a fire;

but they contented themselves with burning all his books before his

face. But when he saw the New Testament thrown into the flames, he

could contain himself no longer. 'He is mad,' said the Spaniards; and

they carried him, bound, to a certain tower, six leagues from Antwerp,

where they kept him for eight months in a dark dungeon. Admitting,

however, that a want of moderation was excusable in the state of

extreme agitation into which he was thrown, his fellow-countrymen

caused him to be set at liberty.

San Romano then betook himself to Louvain, knowing that he should find

there friends of the Gospel. Here he met with Francis Enzinas, who had

not yet set out for Paris, and who, knowing the inexperience, boldness,

and zeal of his countryman, and the dangers which awaited him, spoke

to him frankly and wisely, advising him not to undertake, as he had

purposed, the conversion of all Spain. 'Remain,' said he, 'in the

calling to which God has called you; you may be able to do much good

in your business. Do not set yourself to speak about religion to every

person whom you meet, nor to cry out like a madman at the top of your

voice in the streets and public places. Perhaps you may not be able to

reply to the arguments of your adversaries, nor to confirm your own

by good authorities. If God has need of you he will call you, and it

will be time then to expose yourself to every peril.' 'You say truly,'

replied San Romano, 'and for the future[97] I will speak more modestly.'

[Sidenote: SAN ROMANO AT RATISBON.]

But there was in this young man a fire which nothing could extinguish.

His ruling passion was the desire to do every thing in his power which

he believed calculated to save mankind and to glorify God. He had a

wonderful fervency of spirit which prompted him to perpetual efforts,

even to what many would, perhaps, call an excess of piety and charity.

This has often been the case with the most eminent Christians. The

words of Scripture were true of him: _The zeal of thine house hath

eaten me up_. Scarcely had he promised Enzinas to be more prudent,

when he set out with a few friends for Ratisbon, where the Imperial

Diet had been opened in April (1541), and where Charles the Fifth

then was. The prince was showing, as they said, much favor towards

the Protestants. He desired, in fact, to obtain the support of the

evangelical party for the war against the Turks, who were attacking

Austria.[98] San Romano, therefore, believed the moment to be favorable

for attempting the conversion of Charles. He did not mention his design

to his companions. While, however, he went on his way in silence, he

reasoned within himself that the truth of the Gospel was obvious, and

that if the emperor, whom the Spaniards regarded as master of the

world, should once receive it, he would spread it abroad throughout

Christendom, and throughout the whole world. And he thought that if

vulgar fears should hinder him from speaking to Charles, he would be

taking upon himself an immense responsibility.

No sooner had he arrived at Ratisbon than he requested and obtained

an audience of the emperor. He entreated him to make use of his power

to repress the fanatical proceedings of the Inquisition. 'Sire,' said

he, 'the true religion is to be found amongst the Protestants, and

the Spaniards are sunk in abominable errors. Receive worthily the

true doctrine of the Son of God, which is proclaimed so clearly in

the Germanic churches. Repress all cruelty, re-establish the true

worship of God in your states, and cause the doctrine of salvation to

be proclaimed throughout the world.' Long and bold as San Romano's

discourse was, the emperor listened to it very patiently. It was not

mere ranting.[99] 'I have this matter much at heart,' replied Charles,

pleasantly, 'and I will spare no pains for it.' San Romano withdrew

full of hope.

A conference was now going on at Ratisbon between the Romanists and

the evangelical party, who, at the emperor's request, were endeavoring

to come to an agreement. Charles's moderation might well be the result

of his desire to do nothing which might interfere with an arrangement.

But no desire was manifested to render justice to the Reformation. On

the contrary, Luther wrote to the Elector of Saxony: 'All this is only

pure popish deceit. It is impossible to bring Christ and the Serpent to

an agreement.'[100] Fanatical Catholics, both Germans and Spaniards,

were already indulging in acts of cruelty towards the evangelical

Christians. At this spectacle San Romano felt his hopes vanish. He did

not, however, lose heart; but appealed a second and a third time with

great boldness to the emperor, receiving none but gracious replies from

him.

[Sidenote: SECOND ARREST OF SAN ROMANO.]

The Spaniards in Charles's suite were less politic than himself, and

they displayed much irritation at the language of their countryman.

When, therefore, the young Christian of Burgos desired to speak

a fourth time with the monarch, they had him carried off and put

into prison. Their fury rose to the highest pitch, and weary of the

consideration shown to him, they were about to seize the audacious

young man and throw him without further ceremony into the Danube.[101]

The emperor prevented this, and ordered him to be tried according

to the laws of the empire. He was then thrown into a deep dungeon,

where he was kept in chains. According to some accounts, he was bound

to the wheels of a chariot, dragged in the train of the emperor,

and even transported to Africa,[102] whither Charles at this time

betook himself on a famous expedition. This story appears to us very

improbable. However that may be, on the day when he was released from

prison he was cruelly bound and chained together with real criminals,

without the least regard to his social position or the cause for which

he had been arrested, and thus conducted on a miserable cart either

into Africa or into Spain. One of the Spaniards who had accompanied him

on the way from Louvain to Ratisbon approached the cart, and, surprised

at the barbarous manner in which his friend was treated, asked him,

'What is the meaning of this? Why are you here in company with

criminals and treated with such ignominy?' Poor San Romano, constant

in his faith and hope, raised his arms as high as he could, saying,

'Do you see these iron chains? They will procure me in the presence of

God greater honors than all the pomp and magnificence of the emperor's

court. O glorious bonds! you will soon shine like a crown of precious

stones. You see, my brother, how my arms and legs are bound and how

my whole body, weighed down by these irons, is fastened to the cart,

without being able to stir. But all these bonds can not prevent my

spirit, over which the emperor has no authority, from being perfectly

free,[103] nor from rising to the dwelling of the eternal Father to

contemplate heavenly things, nor from being there continually refreshed

by the sweet society of saints. Ah! would to God that the bonds of

this mortal body were already severed and that my soul could even now

take flight to my heavenly home! It is my firm assurance, that soon,

instead of these transient chains, everlasting joy in the glorious

presence of God will be given me by the just Judge.' Such was the faith

of the martyrs of the Reformation. There was something within them

that was free, _liberrimus animus_. There the emperor had nothing to

command, nothing to say. Thus it was that after the night and bondage

of the Middle Ages, our modern freedom took its rise. Holy and glorious

origin! San Romano's friend was so astonished and touched by these

words that he 'shed a torrent of tears.' His grief was so intense that

he could not speak, and answered only by tears and sighs. But soon the

guards, noticing perhaps this conversation, drove on at a great rate,

and the friends were separated.[104]

San Romano on his arrival in Spain was delivered over to the

Inquisition of Valladolid. The inquisitors threw him into a dark

prison, 'a most horrible subterranean hole,' says the French

translator. They subjected him to far more cruel treatment than he had

ever experienced from the soldiers; and he suffered more than in the

great dangers which he had incurred at sea, from the chains with which

he was loaded, and a thousand other torments. This took place in 1542,

and San Romano remained in prison about two years.[105]

CHAPTER IV.

THE NEW TESTAMENT IN SPANISH PRESENTED TO CHARLES THE FIFTH BY ENZINAS.

(1542-1545.)

While these events were passing, Francis Enzinas was working at

Wittenberg under the eye of Melanchthon at his translation of the New

Testament. The work was at last completed, and there remained only

to print it and send it to Spain. For this purpose Enzinas was to go

to Antwerp. He set off, therefore, from Wittenberg in the month of

January, 1543, just after his friend San Romano had been confined in

the dungeons of Valladolid. He first proceeded, by very bad roads, and

in the midst of winter, to Embden, where he wished to see John Alasco.

'We conferred on several matters, which he has no doubt communicated to

you,' wrote Francis to Melanchthon. Thence he went to the convent of

Adnard, in the neighborhood of Groningen, where Hardenberg then was.

This man's regard for the Gospel had abated, and he had determined to

pass the rest of his days in peace in his convent. Enzinas endeavored

to induce him openly to profess the doctrine of the Gospel. In this he

succeeded. Hardenberg left the convent and went to Cologne. Francis

went to Louvain, where he arrived in March, 1543.[106]

[Sidenote: ENZINAS AT LOUVAIN.]

The moment was not favorable. The Inquisition and the secular power

itself were both preparing their terrors. There was an under-current

of agitation in the city; hatred or fear was everywhere rife.

Enzinas had many friends in the city; but knowing that he came from

Wittenberg, and pretending that he 'smelt of sulphur,' those with

whom he was most intimate, far from lavishing on him marks of tender

affection, as formerly, remained mute and trembled in his presence.

He well understood the reason. The very day after his arrival, the

Attorney-General, Peter du Fief, cast into prison, as we have seen

elsewhere,[107] all of the evangelical party who fell into his hands.

An uncle whom Enzinas had at Antwerp, Don Diego Ortega, invited him to

go and see him, and he was received in that town with open arms. At

this period he was alternately at Antwerp, Brussels, and Louvain.

The persecution which had befallen a great number of his friends now

absorbed all his thoughts; but when the storm had somewhat abated, his

project of publishing his Spanish translation of the New Testament

again engaged his attention. Being modest, as distinguished men

generally are, he felt some hesitation when he considered how great an

enterprise it was, especially for a young man like himself. 'I do not

wish,' he said, 'to accomplish this work in obedience to my own impulse

alone.' He therefore consulted several men belonging to different

nations and eminent for their learning and wisdom. All of them approved

his project, and begged him to hasten the printing. 'Since the birth of

Jesus Christ,' said some of the monks, even among the superstitious,

'so great a benefit has never been offered to the Spanish people.'

'I could wish,' said another, 'to see that book printed, were it

even with my own blood.'[108] Enzinas took another step even more

humble, and which might have compromised him. It was necessary that

theological books should receive the sanction of the faculty of

theology. 'Assuredly,' said Enzinas, 'this was never required, nor

ought to be required, for the Holy Scriptures. But no matter.' He sent

his translation to the dean of Louvain by a monk of his acquaintance.

The members of the faculty, after conferring together, replied, 'We

do not know Spanish; but we know that every heresy in the Netherlands

proceeded from reading the sacred books in the vulgar tongue. It

would, therefore, be advisable not to furnish the common people in

Spain with an opportunity of refuting the decrees of the Church by

the words of Jesus Christ, the prophets, and the apostles.[109] But

since the emperor has not forbidden it, we give neither permission nor

prohibition.' This reply was at least candid and ingenuous.

[Sidenote: THE SPANISH NEW TESTAMENT.]

Enzinas did not pay much regard to the advice of the theologians of

Louvain; but the work would have had a much larger circulation if it

had been sent out under their sanction. Now both prudence and zeal

incited him to do every thing to ensure the success of his enterprise.

Having met with this refusal, he contented himself with communicating

his manuscript to Spanish scholars, who declared that they had collated

the most important passages, and had found the translation very

faithful. They urged him, therefore, to hasten the publication of so

beneficial a work.[110] He now went once more to Antwerp, intending

to have his book printed there; but he was soon to discover that

his application to the theologians of the university of Louvain, by

spreading in a certain circle a report of his enterprise, sufficed to

throw great obstacles in his way.

There were, in fact, at this time in the Low Countries dignitaries of

the Spanish Church whose eyes were open and who would not fail to use

every effort to hinder the printing of the Holy Scriptures in Spanish.

Amongst others was the archbishop of Compostella, Don Gaspar d'Avalos,

a man whom Spanish devotees considered, on account of the perfection of

his ultramontane doctrine, as a divinity among mortals,[111] but whom

men of sound judgment regarded as a fanatic. Filled with abhorrence

for the holy doctrine of the Gospel, he took every opportunity of

contending against and uprooting it. He was the first to oppose the

translation of Enzinas. 'To publish the New Testament in Spanish,' said

he, 'is a crime worthy of death.' One day, when the archbishop and the

translator were both at Antwerp, the former preached. The Spaniards,

who were at this time numerous at Antwerp, were present, and many

others came out of mere curiosity. Enzinas slipped into the church,

and, wishing to hear well, succeeded in placing himself close to the

illustrious preacher. The latter, according to the taste of the Romish

priests, delivered a controversial sermon, and it must be confessed

that he had reasons for doing so. He thundered against the books which

set forth the doctrine of the Gospel. He did not preach, said Enzinas,

he vociferated, and strove by furious clamor to stir up his audience

and excite the people to sedition.[112] He went even further. Without

naming Enzinas, he hurled covert words at him, never suspecting that

the man whom he was attacking was sitting close by him.[113]

Francis, whether after or before this sermon we do not know, went to

Stephen Meerdmann the printer, and the following conversation took

place:--

_Enzinas_: 'Are you willing to print a Spanish translation of the New

Testament?'

_Meerdmann_: 'Quite willing; such a work is desired by many.'

_Enzinas_: 'Is there any need of a license?'

_Meerdmann_: 'The emperor has never forbidden the printing of the Holy

Scriptures, and the New Testament has been printed at Antwerp in almost

every European language. If your translation is faithful it may be

printed without permission.'

_Enzinas_: 'Then prepare your presses; I take the responsibility of the

translation; do you take that of the publication. Of course I bear the

cost myself.'

[Sidenote: ITS TITLE-PAGE.]

There was nothing underhand in all this. The enterprise of Enzinas

was well known, and some approved, while others blamed it. Any one

who wished was admitted to the translator's house. One day, when he

had some members of his family with him, and before he had sent

the copy to the printer, an old Dominican monk, who scented some

heretical design underneath it all, presented himself at his door.

After the customary salutations, he took up the first page which lay

on the table in manuscript and contained the title and an epistle

to the emperor. The monk read: _The New Testament, that is, the New

Covenant of our Redeemer and only Saviour Jesus Christ._ Francis had

said _Covenant_ because he had noticed that the word _Testament_ was

not well understood; and he had inserted the word _only_ before the

word _Saviour_ to dissipate the error so common among the Spaniards,

of admitting other saviours besides the Son of God. '_Covenant_,'

said the monk; 'your translation is faithful and good, but the word

_Covenant_ grates on my ears; it is a completely Lutheran phrase.' 'No,

it is not a phrase of Luther's,' said Enzinas, 'but of the prophets

and apostles.' 'This is intolerable,' resumed the monk; 'a youth, born

but yesterday or the day before,[114] claims to teach the wisest and

oldest men what they have taught all their life long! I swear by my

sacred cowl[115] that your design is to administer to men's souls the

poisonous beverages of Luther, craftily mixing them with the most holy

words of the New Testament.' Then turning to the relatives of Enzinas,

he began to rail like a madman, endeavoring by tragical words to excite

his own family against him. Indeed, the monk had scarcely finished,

when Francis was surrounded by his relatives, beseeching him, for the

love of them, to erase the unlucky word. He did so, in order not to

offend them, but he left standing the phrase _only Saviour_, to which

the monk did not object. He then sent the sheets to the printer who put

it to press and worked off a large number.

Having received this first printed sheet, Enzinas, through excess

of caution, communicated it to a Spaniard of his acquaintance, an

elderly, well-informed, and influential man. '_Only Saviour!_' cried

he, on seeing the title. 'If you will be advised by me, omit the word

_only_, which will give rise to grave suspicions.' Enzinas explained

his reasons. The Spaniard acknowledged the truth of the doctrine, but

denied the expediency of putting it so prominently forward. The word

was omitted, and the sheet had to be reprinted.[116] The whole edition

was some time after ready to appear.

[Sidenote: PEDRO DE SOTO.]

It was now the beginning of November, 1543. The emperor had just made

war against the Duke of Cleves, had conquered him, and had obtained

by the treaty of Venloo a portion of the states of that prince. The

duke's mother, the Princess Mary, a clever woman, had died of grief

and indignation;[117] but the emperor was proud of his achievements,

and thought only of following up his triumphs of every kind. It was

to his Spanish troops in particular that Charles owed this victory. A

great number of Spaniards of every rank accompanied him, and he had

just appointed as his confessor a Dominican from the Peninsula, Pedro

de Soto, who was afterwards the first theologian of Pius IV., in the

third convocation of the Council of Trent. At this time Soto ranked,

both in the Low Countries and in Germany, among the most zealous of

the Romish priests. He sought to gain over ignorant minds, and knew

how to insinuate himself into the good graces of the great. As he had

the emperor's conscience at his disposal he 'instilled into him his

venom,[118] thus perverting the sentiments of a prince who was full

of clemency,' says Enzinas. But this supposed benignity on Charles's

part was an illusion. Policy was his great guiding motive, and he was

merciful or harsh, according as the interests of his ambition required.

It is, however, true that Soto endeavored both by his sermons and

otherwise to inflame men's minds, and especially that of Charles,

against those whom he called heretics. Whenever the Dominican preached

before Charles the Fifth and his court, he was to be seen entering

the church in a lowly manner, his head sunk between his shoulders,

his cowl pulled over his forehead, his eyes fixed on the ground, and

his hands clasped.[119] One would have thought him a man dead to the

world, who contemplated only heavenly things, and who would not harm

a fly.[120] He mounted the pulpit, threw back his cowl and gravely

saluted the emperor, and the princes and lords who surrounded him. Then

he began his sermon, speaking with a low voice and slow enunciation,

but clearly and firmly, so that his words sank the more impressively

into men's hearts. He recalled with enthusiasm the religion of their

ancestors and extolled the piety and zeal of Charles. Then, affecting

to be more and more moved, he deplored with sighs and tears the ruin

of religion and the attacks made upon the dignity of the priest, and

conjured the emperor to tread in the way marked out for him by his

predecessors. Having thus by feigned modesty insinuated himself into

the hearts of his audience, he raised his head boldly, gave vent

to the passion by which he was animated, and brought into play the

powerful artifices suggested to him by the Evil One.[121] He hurled

the thunders of his eloquence at his adversaries; he aimed a thousand

shafts at them, and subdued his audience. But if his violence took the

assembly by surprise, he shocked many, who thought with amazement: 'We

might fancy we were listening to a man who had descended from the abode

of the gods on Olympus to announce the secrets he had learned from

Jupiter,' 'He was seized,' said one of his hearers, 'with a diabolical

fury, and seemed like a priest of the mysteries, gesticulating and

leaping in a chorus of the Furies.'[122] He laid siege to the mind

of the emperor, and inflamed the princes with hatred of the divine

doctrine. This he distorted and defamed; and he strove by all means to

extinguish the salutary light of the Gospel which God had rekindled

in the midst of the darkness. Turning towards the emperor and the

princes, he proclaimed in a prophetic voice, that God would not be

favorable to them until they should have destroyed the apostates with

fire and sword. He did not conclude his discourse till he thought he

had constrained his hearers by his thundering eloquence to burn all the

Lutherans.

[Sidenote: HE INSTIGATES TO PERSECUTION.]

Nevertheless it was quite manifest that the emperor did not always use

such diligence as De Soto demanded of him in his seditious discourses.

Disquieted, therefore, and saddened because the monarch appeared

'backward to persecution,' he appealed to him in private, urging him to

make confession; and it was in the retired chamber in which he received

as a penitent the master of the world that he sought, by striking great

blows, to drive Charles on to persecution. 'Most sacred Majesty,' he

said, 'you are the monarch whom God has raised to the highest pitch

of honor, in order that you may defend the Church and take vengeance

on impiety, and I am the man whom God has appointed to govern your

conscience. Power has been given me, as your majesty is aware, to remit

and to retain sins. If your majesty does not purify the Church from

pollution, I can not absolve you, _ego non possum te absolvere_.' He

even menaced him with the anger of God and the pains of hell. Charles,

who was easily intimidated--even, as we know, by the approach of a

comet--'imagined himself already plunged into the abyss of hell.'[123]

The monk, perceiving this, pressed his point, and did not pronounce

absolution until he had extorted from the sovereign a promise to put

the heretics to death.

This narrative by a contemporary appears to us perfectly authentic.

There is, however, one point on which we can not follow it. We do not

believe that De Soto was a hypocrite and employed fraud and treason,

as this author seems to think. Charles's confessor was, we believe,

a fanatic, but a sincere fanatic; he really believed himself to be

prosecuting error.

No sooner had De Soto obtained the promise of Charles than he hastened

to Granvella. It was said at court that these two personages had made

a compact, by virtue of which the first minister never thwarted the

confessor in matters of religion. It might be so; but we believe that

Charles did not lightly submit his designs to the fanaticism of the

priests, nor would he, we repeat, give them the rein unless it suited

his policy.

On November 24, 1543, Charles the Fifth, after having signed the treaty

of Venloo, entered Brussels, probably by the Louvain gate. Another

personage entered the city at the same time, but by the Antwerp gate.

This was Francis Enzinas. He had, as we have said, dedicated his

translation to the emperor. 'Most sacred majesty,' said he in this

dedication, 'owing to versions of the Holy Scriptures, all men can now

hear Jesus Christ and his apostles speak in their own languages of the

mysteries of our redemption, on which the salvation and the consolation

of our souls depend. New versions are now continually being published

in every kingdom of Christendom, in Italy, in Flanders, and in Germany,

which is flooded with them. Spain alone remains isolated in her corner

at the extremity of Europe. My desire is to be useful, according to my

abilities, to my country. I hope that your majesty will approve of my

work and protect it with your royal authority.' This dedication was

dated from Antwerp, October 1, 1543.

Enzinas did not wish his book to be offered for sale until he had

presented it to the emperor; and he had come to Brussels to confer with

his friends as to where he would have to go and how he should proceed.

As soon as he had arrived he directed his steps towards the palace,

where, no doubt, one of his acquaintances resided. On approaching he

saw to his great surprise the emperor himself; just arriving at court,

surrounded by a numerous suite.[124] At this sight Francis greatly

rejoiced. 'What a happy augury!' thought he; 'this opportune meeting

should certainly give me hope that my business will succeed.'

The question now was, how to get access to Charles. Francis de Enzinas,

whose family occupied an honorable position, had several distinguished

kinsmen and friends at court,[125] to whom he could apply. He went,

therefore, to their houses, but learned to his great disappointment

that some of them had not yet arrived at Brussels; and having visited

the others, he found that these great personages were infidels who

scoffed at religion as something far beneath them. For them it was

only an instrument of government, and they were not at all inclined

to compromise themselves with the emperor by becoming patrons of

Lutheranism. Enzinas withdrew, disappointed in his expectations.

'Certainly,' said he, 'I will not ask them to use their influence in

favor of a work which they detest. Moreover, as I am connected with

them either by friendship or by blood, I am unwilling to annoy them, or

do them harm.' What, then, was to be done?

[Sidenote: ENZINAS BEFORE THE EMPEROR.]

There was one bishop at court who was in high favor with the emperor.

This was Don Francisco de Mendoza, son of the first marquis of

Mondejar, bishop of Jaen, a town not far from Granada and Cordova. He

was a man in the prime of life, grave, candid, and open-hearted, pure

in life, and a lover of piety. Enzinas went one Saturday to the palace

in which the bishop lived. The latter received his young and noble

fellow-countryman affectionately, and on learning that he came to speak

with him about his translation of the New Testament he displayed the

liveliest interest in the work.[126] 'I offer you my services in the

matter,' said he, 'and I will use all my influence with the emperor, to

induce him to receive your work favorably. Return to me to-morrow, and

we will then see his majesty.' The next day was Sunday. A great crowd

was stirring in the palace, and magnificent preparations were being

made for a high mass which was to be celebrated before the emperor.

There was a considerable number of musicians, instruments, and singers.

Enzinas shrunk back at the sight of these preparations. 'I will return

to the town to see some of my learned friends,' he said, 'and leave

them to perform their play at their leisure.'

After mass he came again. The bishop sent for him and took him into

a hall where a table was prepared for the emperor's dinner. Charles

arrived shortly after, followed by a great number of princes and

lords. He entered with much dignity and sat down to table alone.[127]

The bishop and Enzinas stood opposite to him during the repast. The

hall was quite filled with princes and nobles. Some of them waited at

table, some poured out the wine, and others removed the dishes. All

eyes were fixed upon one man alone. Charles the Fifth sat there like

an idol surrounded by its worshippers. But he was quite equal to the

part which he had to play. Enzinas observed attentively the gravity

of his appearance, the features of his countenance, the grace of his

movements, and the heroic grandeur which seemed a part of his nature.

The young Spaniard was so deeply plunged in meditation that he forgot

the purpose which had brought him there. At last he bethought himself

of it; but the great number of princes and lords around him and the

interview which he was to have with the emperor seemed to him something

so extraordinary that he was seized with fear. A sense of the greatness

of his cause however, restored to him some confidence. 'Ah!' thought

he, 'if all the princes in the world were assembled here I should

look upon them as ordained of God to bring my project to a successful

issue.' Then again the thought of addressing this august, mysterious

being, who sat there alone and silent, waited upon by the greatest

personages of the empire, excited within him the liveliest emotion.

Amidst his agitation these words of Scripture came to his mind: _I will

speak of thy testimonies also before kings, and will not be ashamed_.

These words frequently and fervently repeated in his inmost soul[128]

revived his sinking courage. 'Nothing to me now,' said he, 'are all the

powers of the world and the fury of men who would oppose the oracles of

God.'

[Sidenote: CONVERSATION.]

When dinner was finished and divers ceremonies completed, the emperor

rose and remained standing for a while, leaning on a slender staff

magnificently ornamented, and as if he were in expectation that some

one might wish to speak with him. The first to present himself was a

distinguished general who enjoyed high authority and whose exploits

rendered him dear to Charles. He delivered to him some letters, and

having kissed his hand immediately retired. The bishop of Jaen was

the next to come forward, holding by the hand Francis de Enzinas. The

bishop, in a few grave words, recommended to the notice of Charles

the work which was dedicated to him, and which was worthy, he said,

of much honor. The emperor then turned to Enzinas, and the following

conversation took place:--

_The Emperor_: 'What book do you present to me?'

_Enzinas_: 'The New Testament, your imperial majesty, faithfully

translated by me, and containing the Gospel history and the letters of

the apostles. I pray your majesty to recommend this work to the nation

by your approval.'

'Are you, then, the author of this book?'[129]

'No, sire, the Holy Spirit is its author. He breathed inspiration into

holy men of God, who gave to mankind in the Greek language these divine

oracles of our salvation. I, for my part, am but the feeble instrument

who has translated this book into our Spanish tongue.'

'Into Castilian?'

'Yes, your imperial majesty, into our Castilian tongue, and I pray you

to become its patron.'

'What you request shall be done, provided there be nothing in the work

open to suspicion.'

'Nothing, sire, unless the voice of God speaking from heaven, and

the redemption accomplished by his only Son, Jesus Christ, are to be

objects of suspicion to Christians.'

'Your request will be granted if the book be such as you and the

bishop say.' The emperor took the volume and entered an adjoining

apartment.

Enzinas was in amazement. The emperor to imagine that he was the author

of the New Testament, and that the Gospel could contain any thing

suspicious! He could hardly repress words which would have ill-suited

the place where he was. 'O thing unheard of!' said he within himself,

'and enough to make one shed tears of blood!'[130] Shortly afterwards,

by the bishop's advice, he returned to Antwerp.

The next day the emperor ordered the bishop of Jaen to hand over

the volume to a certain Spanish monk, a very celebrated man, fully

capable of judging of the translation, and to request him to give his

opinion on the subject. The bishop accordingly delivered the book to

this personage. Now this monk was De Soto, the confessor of Charles

V. When the prelate saw the confessor again, the latter said: 'This

book pleases me; I highly approve of it; there are only a few remarks

of little importance to make on the translation.... I should like to

see the author and speak to him about it.' Enzinas communicated the

invitation which he received to go to Brussels to some of his friends

and relations at Antwerp. 'Your return to Brussels,' said they, 'would

expose you to great danger.[131] If you wish to fall into the hands of

your enemies, go; but understand that in so doing you act with more

boldness than prudence.' 'I will go,' said he, 'to render an account of

my work, and this in spite of whatever may happen. I will omit nothing

that is useful or necessary to the advancement of the glory of God.' He

accordingly set out.

[Sidenote: ENZINAS AND DE SOTO.]

Enzinas met with the most friendly reception from the bishop of

Jaen, who encouraged him with the best of hopes. The prelate, being

indisposed, ordered his steward to accompany his young friend next day

to the confessor's, at the Dominican convent. Enzinas went thither at

eight o'clock in the morning, in order to be sure of finding him; but

he was told that De Soto was at the house of M. de Granvella. This was

Nicholas Perrenot de Granvella, chancellor to the emperor and father

to the famous cardinal. Enzinas returned at ten o'clock, and received

the same answer; at noon--still the same. 'We shall wait for him,' said

Enzinas.

At one o'clock the confessor arrived, and the steward having introduced

Enzinas, the monk threw back his cowl and bowed his whole body, as if

worshipping a saint or saluting a prince. 'Don Francis,' said he, 'I

esteem myself very happy in having the pleasure of seeing you to-day;

I love you as my own brother, and I have a high appreciation of the

grace which has been given you. I am naturally disposed to be fond of

men of intelligence and learning, but especially of those who apply

themselves to religion, literature, and the advancement of the glory of

God. There is so much sloth, so much corruption in our age, that if one

of our nation is raised up to promote these excellent things, it is a

great honor to Spain. I offer you, therefore all that lies in my power.

This is certainly the due of one by whose means the Spaniards are to

recover the great treasure of heavenly doctrine.[132] But,' added he,

'I can not attend to this matter just now. Come back to me at four

o'clock.' Enzinas left the monastery and went to one of his friends, a

learned and God-fearing man, who implored him not to trust to the monk,

for he was certain that he would have cause to repent of it. 'I will

do nothing rashly,' said Francis, 'but if God should see fit to send

me a cross, it will be for my good.' He returned to the convent of the

Dominicans, and arrived there before the appointed time.

De Soto was giving a lesson on the Acts of the Apostles to about

twenty Spanish courtiers who wished to pass for lovers of literature,

or perhaps to become so. Enzinas sat down quietly beside them, happy

to have this opportunity of becoming acquainted with the doctrines of

the monk. He was just at that passage in the first chapter, where it

is said that Judas, who had betrayed the Lord, fell headlong and burst

asunder in the midst. 'Therefore,' concluded he, 'all traitors ought

to be hung and rent asunder in the midst;'[133] and he exhorted his

audience to fidelity towards the emperor, lest they should fall into

the condemnation of Judas. Then coming to the election of an apostle

by the assembly of the disciples:--'This method of election,' said he,

'was only intended for those times; since then the election has been

transferred to the emperor, which is far preferable.' Besides laying

down these strange doctrines, the monk spoke incorrectly and offended

the ears of his hearers by low language.[134] He did not know Latin,

but with a view to make what he said more wonderful, or rather more

obscure, he intermingled Latin words which were worse than barbarous,

and incessantly committed grammatical errors. Enzinas, with his

cultivated mind and refined scholarship, suffered tortures both from

the words and the matter. 'It was not without sighs and tears,' said

he, 'that I listened to him.'

The lesson was finished at four o'clock. Enzinas then went up to the

monk, who began anew his flattering words; but having in hand, he said,

some very important business, he begged him to return at six o'clock.

'I will willingly wait at the convent,' said Enzinas, and he began to

walk up and down the cloisters.

[Sidenote: TREACHERY OF DE SOTO.]

The confessor lost no time. He had gone to the chancellor Granvella.

'There is a young Spaniard here,' said he, 'who by his labors and his

efforts will soon convert the whole of Spain to Lutheranism, if we do

not prevent it.[135] He has resided with Melanchthon; he discusses

religion, he blames the decrees of the Church, approves the sentiments

of its adversaries, and is gradually alluring every one to his opinion.

To spread the evil still farther he has translated the New Testament

into Spanish.... If it is allowed to be read in Spain, what troubles

it will cause! How many thousand souls will be perverted from the

simplicity of the faith!' ... Granvella was appalled on hearing these

words, and instantly gave orders to arrest Enzinas.

At six o'clock the confessor returned to the monastery and conducted

Enzinas to his apartment, cajoling him on the way with honeyed and

delusive words. When he had opened the door, Francis started. 'What

monsters!' he thought. 'Eternal God! what a number of idols!'[136]

There were four altars in the cell, and an image on each of them, St.

Christopher, St. Roch, and others, enshrined in gold and surrounded by

lighted tapers. Here it was that De Soto addressed his prayers to his

saints.

'Don Francis,' said the confessor, 'excuse me if I make you wait still

longer. I have not yet finished my devotions; permit me to conclude

them while I am walking. To while away the time, here is a book, and

the Bible besides.' He went out. The book was entitled: 'On the Cause

and Origin of all Heresies; by Alfonso de Castro, Franciscan.' The

author was an ignorant monk of Burgos, whom Enzinas knew by report.

However, he opened the book. The cause of heresies, it was asserted,

was the reading of the Bible in the vulgar tongue; and the author

exhorted the inquisitors to prevent the Spaniards from imbibing such

poison. Enzinas, disturbed and agitated, could hardly refrain from

tearing the pages. He threw the book from him. Then, on reflection, he

began to wonder whether the confessor were not plotting some treason,

and whether his comings and goings had any other aim than that of

preparing to waylay him. In order to dissipate these gloomy ideas, he

took the Latin Bible and read.

After some time De Soto came in again, and taking up the New Testament

which the emperor had sent to him, he requested Enzinas to sit down

beside him. Then lowering his eyebrows, and wrinkling his forehead, as

though to render his appearance the more formidable, he kept silence

for a while. At last he began: 'Francis, we two have met here alone

to confer upon the New Testament, in the presence of God, the angels,

and the saints whom you behold on these altars. You regard the study

of this book as profitable to piety, and I consider it injurious.

Its prohibition has been the only means of preserving Spain from the

contamination of sects. Francis, you have accomplished a most audacious

enterprise, and done an impious deed in daring to publish a version

of the New Testament in defiance of the laws of the emperor and your

own duty to our holy religion. It is an atrocious crime which merits

more than mere death. Further, you have been in Germany at the house

of Philip Melanchthon; you extol his virtues and learning everywhere,

and this alone is considered with us a proceeding worthy of capital

punishment.[137] How deplorable it is that you, still so young, and

only beginning your studies, should have fallen so low! It is my duty

to consider the good of the church universal rather than the safety

of a single man. Your crimes are so serious that I know not how you

can escape the penalty with which you are threatened.' Enzinas was

unspeakably grieved at this speech. So much superstition, impiety,

and cruelty overwhelmed him. At the same time he knew that he could

not escape the great dangers which were impending over him. In this

Dominican house he breathed the heavy and deadly atmosphere of the

Inquisition, and he seemed to behold around him its terrible features,

its chains, and its instruments of torture.

[Sidenote: THE MASK DROPPED.]

Nevertheless he took courage and, bearing witness to the Gospel,

extolled the unspeakable value of Holy Scripture, and set forth the

reasons which he felt to be conclusive for reading it. 'The Old and

New Testaments,' he said, 'were given to us from heaven, and there

is nothing more salutary or more essential to mankind. Apart from

this book we should know nothing of the only-begotten Son of God, our

Saviour, who, after having redeemed us by the sacrifice of himself,

raises us to heaven to live there with him forever. This is a doctrine

which was never taught by any philosopher, and is only to be drawn

from these sources. Without it, all human thought is blind and barren,

and no creature can obtain salvation.'[138] He said that if it were a

crime to go to Germany and to confer with the scholars of that country,

it was a crime which had been committed by the emperor, and by many

princes and excellent men who had conversed with Melanchthon, Luther,

and other doctors. He was still speaking when an unpleasant apparition

silenced him. The door had opened, and a monk of hideous aspect entered

the cell. His eyes were fierce, his mouth awry, his aspect threatening.

Every thing about him betokened a bad man, and one who was meditating

some cruel purpose. It was the prior of the Dominicans. He turned

towards Enzinas, and suppressing his malice, meekly withdrew his head

from his cowl, saluted him, and stated that his valet was below and

was come to call him to supper. This was the message agreed on between

the two monks as the signal that all was ready. 'I know the way,'

said Enzinas, who was bent on prolonging the interview; 'I shall find

my lodging without the aid of a servant; please tell him that he may

return to the house.' The prior went out. Enzinas then requested the

confessor to tell him his opinion of the translation, as the emperor

had asked for this, and it was indeed the object of their conference.

But the signal appointed had been given, and the confessor put an end

to the interview. 'It is too late now,' said he, 'come again to-morrow

if it suits you.' Enzinas, therefore, fearing to be importunate, took

leave of the monk, and De Soto's servant conducted him as far as the

court-yard. But gloomy thoughts were crowding into his mind. As he

passed through the convent he had seen a number of monks, in a state of

eagerness and excitement, some going up, others going down. In their

looks he saw strange agitation and fierceness. They cast upon him

sidelong glances expressive of terror; they spoke low to one another,

and uttered words which Enzinas could not understand.[139] It was

evident that this immoderate agitation in the monastery and among the

inmates was occasioned by some unusual occurrence. Francis conjectured

what it might be; it began to arouse anxiety in his breast; and he

wondered whether some great blow was about to fall on him.

When he reached the court-yard a man, who was a stranger to him, but

who looked civil, came up and inquired whether his name was Francis

de Enzinas. He answered that it was. 'I want to speak with you,' said

the stranger. 'I am at your service,' replied the young Spaniard. They

then passed on towards the gate of the monastery. The vast convent of

the Dominicans with its outbuildings occupied a considerable part of

the present site of the Mint, opposite the Theatre Royal, as well as

some adjacent land. The gate by which Enzinas had to go out opened upon

this place. As soon as it was unbarred he saw a large body of men armed

with halberds, swords, and other weapons of war. They threw themselves

upon him in a threatening manner.[140] Meanwhile the man who was in his

company laid hold of his arms and said, 'You are my prisoner.' 'There

was no need,' said Enzinas, 'to assemble such a troop of executioners

against a poor man like me. They should be sent against brigands. My

conscience is at peace, and I am ready to appear before any judge in

the world, even before the emperor. I will go to prison, into exile,

to the stake, and whithersoever you may please to conduct me.' 'I will

not take you far,' said the unknown. 'Had it been possible to decline

the mission which I am fulfilling, I assure you that I should have done

so. But the chancellor Granvella has compelled me, asserting that he

had received express orders from the emperor.' The prisoner, with his

guide and his guards, crossed a small street, and arrived at the prison

of the _Vrunte_, vulgarly called the _Amigo_, where the noble young man

was confined, for having translated into good Spanish the Gospel of

Jesus Christ. This took place on December 13, 1543.

[Sidenote: ENZINAS IN PRISON.]

The first four hours, from six at night till ten, were very painful.

Enzinas had a lively imagination, and he saw before him great and

numberless dangers, among which death seemed to be the least. All these

perils were drawn up in battle array around him, and he seemed actually

to see them.[141] But they did not appall him. 'How great soever may

be the perils which await me,' he said, 'by God's grace I possess, for

encountering them, a courage that is stronger and greater than they

are.' Nevertheless, the treachery of the 'wicked monk' tormented him

so much that he found it hard to endure. 'If only,' he thought, 'he

had made fair war on me, if from the first he had shown himself my

enemy....' He remained sunk in sorrow and dejection.

They had placed him in the apartment where all the prisoners were;

but as he expressed a wish to be alone, he was conducted to an upper

chamber. Weighed down with care, he was dejected and silent. The man

who had brought him there looked at him and at length said, 'Of all

those who have been brought to this place, I never saw any one so

distressed as you. Bethink you, brother, that God our Father cares for

his children, and often leads them by a way which they do not choose.

Do not, therefore, be cast down, but have good courage. Your age, your

manners, your physiognomy, all bear witness to your innocence. If you

have committed any offence incident to youth, remember the mercy of

God.' Francis listened with astonishment to the words of this man,

and then related to him the cause of his imprisonment and the means

by which it was effected. On hearing this, the man, whom he had taken

for one of the jailer's servants, appeared to be deeply affected, and

going up to Francis embraced him. 'Ah!' said he, 'I recognize in you

a true brother; for you are a prisoner for the same Gospel for the

love of which I have been enduring these bonds for eight months. You

need not be surprised, brother; for it is a characteristic of the Word

of God that it is never brought to light without being followed by

thunders and lightnings.[142] But I hear some one coming up; let us say

no more for the present.' This man was the pious and charitable Giles

Tielmans, of whom we have formerly given an account,[143] and who was

afterwards burnt. From this time he came to see Enzinas every morning

and evening, and spoke to him so forcibly and so tenderly that Enzinas

felt ready to suffer death to confirm the truth of the Gospel.

[Sidenote: EXAMINATION.]

On the fourth day of his imprisonment, the imperial commissioners,

members of the Privy Council, came to conduct the inquiry. They

entered, with great parade and a magnificence almost royal, into the

place where the prisoners were assembled. All the latter rose and

retired, leaving Francis alone with the commissioners.

The examination began in Latin. 'Francis,' said the commissioners,

'you are to tell us the whole truth, and in that case, although your

cause is most hateful, we shall treat you with gentleness, unless we

are obliged _to wrest from you by force_ what we want to know.' They

then exhibited the papers on the basis of which they proceeded to

the examination. Enzinas recognized the handwriting of the confessor

of Charles the Fifth. Two crimes especially formed the subject of

the inquiry. 'Have you been to Wittenberg?' 'Yes.' 'Have you been

acquainted with Melanchthon?' 'Yes.' 'What do you think of him?'

Francis saw that he was caught, and that his answer would put into the

hands of his enemies 'a knife for his own throat.' Still he did not

falter. Never did this noble young man disown his friends. 'I think,'

said he, 'that of all the men I ever knew he is the best.'[144] 'How

can you be so impudent,' exclaimed his judges, 'as to speak thus of

Melanchthon, a man that is a heretic and excommunicated?'

The commissioners now passed on to the second point. 'In your

translation of the epistle to the Romans, chapter iii., verse 28,'

they said, 'we find these words printed in capitals: THEREFORE WE

CONCLUDE THAT A MAN IS JUSTIFIED BY FAITH WITHOUT THE DEEDS OF THE

LAW. For what reason,' they continued, 'have you had this Lutheran

maxim set in capital letters? It is a very grave offence, and deserves

burning.'[145] 'This doctrine was not devised in Luther's brain,'

replied Enzinas. 'Its source is the mysterious throne of the Eternal

Father, and it was revealed to the church by the ministry of St. Paul,

for the salvation of every one who believeth.'

Meanwhile the tidings of the arrest of Enzinas had burst upon Antwerp

like a bomb-shell, and spread grief among all his kinsfolk and his

friends. Irritated at one time by what they called the imprudence of

the young man, at another filled with compassion for the calamity which

had befallen him, they went without delay to Brussels, his uncle Don

Diego Ortega heading the party, and proceeded direct to the prison.

'Thou seest now,' they said to him, 'the fruit of thy thoughtlessness.

Thou wouldst not believe what we told thee. What business hadst thou to

meddle with theology, or to study the sacred writings? Thou oughtest to

leave that to the monks. What hast thou got by it? Thou hast exposed

thyself to a violent death, and hast brought great disgrace and lasting

infamy upon thy whole race.' When he heard these reproaches Enzinas

was overpowered with bitter grief. He endeavored by great meekness

and modesty to assuage the anger of his kinsmen, and entreated them

not to judge of the merits of an enterprise by its result.[146] 'I am

already unhappy enough,' said he; 'pray do not add to my pain.' At

these words his kinsmen were affected. 'Yes, yes,' they said, 'we know

thy innocence; we are come to rescue thee if it be possible, or at

least to mitigate thy suffering.' They remained, indeed, a whole week

at Brussels; they went frequently to the confessor and to several great

lords, and earnestly entreated that Francis might be set at liberty,

and especially that the matter should not be referred to the Spanish

Inquisition, since in that case his death would be inevitable. But they

returned to Antwerp distressed at their failure, though not without

hope.

[Sidenote: SPIRITUAL CONSOLATIONS.]

Enzinas had gradually recovered from his excitement. Books had

been brought to him, and he read them diligently. There was one

work especially which made a deep impression on his mind. This was

the 'Supplication and exhortation of Calvin to the Emperor and to

the States of the Empire to devote their utmost attention to the

re-establishment of the church.'[147] This work was highly praised by

Bucer, and Theodore Beza said of it that perhaps nothing more vigorous

had been published in that age. 'The perusal of this work while I was

in prison,' said Enzinas at a later time to Calvin, 'inspired me with

such courage that I felt more willing to face death than I had ever

felt before.'[148]

But his chief delight was meditation upon the Holy Scriptures. 'The

promises of Christ,' he said, 'allay my sorrows, and I am wonderfully

invigorated by the reading of the Psalms. Eternal God! what abundant

consolation this book has afforded me! With what delight have I tasted

the excellent savor of heavenly wisdom! That lyre of David so ravishes

me with its divine harmony, that heavenly harp excites within me such

love for the things of God, as I can find no words to express.'[149] He

occupied himself in arranging some of the Psalms[150] in the form of

prayers, and went on with his task till he had translated them all.

Francis was not satisfied with meditation alone; he joined with it

deeds of unremitting zeal and charity. The prison discipline was not

severe. The jailer, one John Thyssens, a man of about thirty-eight, had

long carried on the trade of shoemaker, and had afterwards undertaken

by contract the maintenance of the prisoners. He was very negligent in

the discharge of his duties, and allowed a large measure of liberty to

the prisoners and their friends. Inhabitants of Brabant, of Flanders,

of Holland, of Antwerp, and gentlemen of the court came to visit

Enzinas. In this way he saw nearly four hundred citizens of Brussels,

among them some persons of quality. Many of them were acquainted with

the Gospel; others were ardently longing for the word of God, and

entreated Enzinas to make it known to them. He knew the danger to which

he exposed himself by doing this, but he did not spare himself; and

many gave glory to God because they had received from a poor prisoner

the pearl of great price, the heavenly doctrine. 'There are more than

seven thousand people in Brussels who know the Gospel,' they told him;

'the whole city is friendly to it;[151] and were not the people in fear

of their lives they would openly profess it.' It was hardly possible to

name a single town in Belgium or in Holland whose inhabitants had not

a desire to converse with him. He was a captive who proclaimed liberty

to free men. 'The word of God,' some of them told him, 'is making great

way amongst us. It grows and spreads day by day in the midst of the

fire of persecution and the terrors of death.' Both men and women sent

him money, but this he declined to accept.

Charles the Fifth, who, as we have seen, had arrived at Brussels on

November 24, 1543, only remained there till January 2, 1544. On

February 20 he opened the diet of Spire, demanded large aids both of

infantry and cavalry, and in June set out at the head of his army for

France. He took Saint-Dizier, advanced within two days' march of Paris,

causing great terror in that city, and concluded peace at Crépy. He

then returned to his own dominions, and entered Brussels October 1,

1544.[152]

[Sidenote: HOPES.]

This news awakened hopes for Enzinas on the part of his kinsmen at

Antwerp, and the most influential among them immediately set out to

solicit the release of the young man. They appealed to the confessor,

who was ready enough to make promises, to the chancellor Granvella,

to his son the bishop of Arras, afterwards archbishop of Mechlin and

cardinal, and to Claude Boissot, dean of Poligny, master of requests.

They all gave kind answers, but these were words and nothing else. The

queen of France visited Brussels, and a report was spread that all

prisoners would at her request be liberated. Some murderers, brigands,

and other malefactors were, indeed, set free; the first of them was a

parricide; but Enzinas and the other evangelicals were more strictly

and severely kept than before.[153] At the same time, the emperor

having gone to Ghent, the monks extorted from him some laws _written

in blood_, which were promulgated in all the towns, and which enabled

them cruelly to assail the Lutherans at their own pleasure.[154] 'On a

sudden there broke out in Flanders a bloody persecution, a slaughter of

Christian people, such as had never been seen or heard of.' From all

the towns, not excepting even the smallest, a great number of people

and of leading men, on being warned of the danger which was impending

over them, took flight, leaving their wives, their children, their

families, houses, and goods, which were forthwith seized by the agents

of the emperor. But there was a large number who could not fly. All

the towers were filled. The prisons in the towns had not room to hold

the victims. They brought in two hundred prisoners at a time, both men

and women. Some of them were thrust into sacks and thrown into the

water; others were burned, beheaded, buried alive, or condemned to

imprisonment for life. The like storm swept over Brabant, Hainault, and

Artois. The unhappy witnesses of this butchery asserted that 'for many

ages so many and great cruelties had not been perpetrated, nor seen,

nor heard of in all the world.' Such was the joyful entry which Charles

the Fifth made into his good country of Flanders and the good town of

Ghent, in which he was born.

Tidings of these things were brought day by day into the prison at

Brussels, frequently with a large number of captives. When Enzinas and

his friends heard of the slaughter they were amazed and terrified. Will

there be any end to this? they asked. It might well be doubted whether

such men would ever be satiated with the blood of their fellow-men!

Enzinas began to regret that, from confidence in his own innocence,

and for fear of bringing the jailer into disgrace, he had not availed

himself of several opportunities which had offered of making his escape

from prison. A circumstance which soon occurred helped to bring him to

a decision.

The queen of Hungary, governess of the Netherlands, who, from a strange

mixture of contradictory qualities, was desirous, while obliged to

execute the persecuting decrees of her brother against evangelical

Christianity, to feed upon the word of God, had chosen for her

chaplain one Peter Alexander, a true Christian man. This minister

faithfully confessed his trust in the Saviour, both in preaching and

in conversation. 'All things needful for salvation,' he said, 'are

contained in the Gospel. We must believe only that which is to be found

in the Holy Scriptures. Faith alone justifies immediately before God,

but works justify a man before his fellow-men. The true indulgences

are obtained without gold or silver, by trust alone in the merits of

Christ. The one real sin which condemns is not to believe in Christ.

The true penance consists in abstinence from sin. All the merits of

Christ are communicated to men by faith, so that they are able to glory

in them as much as if they were their own. We must honor the saints

only by imitating their virtues. We obtain a blessing of God more

easily by asking for it ourselves than through the saints.[155] No one

loves God so much as he ought. All the efforts and all the labors of

those who are not regenerated by the Holy Spirit are evil. The religion

of the monks is hypocrisy. The fast of God is a perpetual fast, and

not confined to this or that particular day. It is three hundred years

since the pure and real Gospel was preached; and now whoever preaches

it is considered a heretic.'

[Sidenote: THE QUEEN'S CHAPLAIN.]

It was a strange sight, this evangelical chaplain preaching in the

chapel of the most persecuting court in Christendom. Alexander, too,

after being frequently accused, was at length obliged to hold a

theological disputation with the confessor De Soto, in the presence of

the two Granvellas. In consequence of this disputation proceedings were

instituted against him. The confessor often came before the emperor

and declared that the whole country would be ruined if this man were

not severely punished. One day a friend of Enzinas came to see him in

prison, and told him that the queen's preacher had fled, because he

found that if he stayed an hour longer he would be ruined. Alexander

was tried and burnt in effigy, together with his Latin and French

books. As for himself, he became first a professor at the university

of Heidelberg, afterwards canon of Canterbury cathedral, and finally

pastor of the French church in London.

This flight brought Enzinas to a decision. On February 1, 1545,

after sitting a long time at table at the evening meal, he felt

more depressed than usual without knowing why. The clock struck, it

was half-past seven. He then rose, as he was wont to do, not liking

protracted meals, and began to pace up and down in a gloomy and

dejected state, so that some of the prisoners came up to him and

said--'Come, put away this melancholy.' 'Make you merry, the rest of

you, over your cups,' he answered; 'but as for me I want air; I will

go out.' No one paid any attention to what he said, nor did he himself

mean any thing particular when he spoke. He continued walking about,

uneasy, having some difficulty in breathing, and in great distress.

He thus came to the first gate, the upper part of which, constructed

of strong lattice-work, allowed him to see into the street. Having

approached it for the purpose of looking out, he felt the gate stir.

He took hold of it and it opened easily. The second was wide open,

and the third was only closed during the night. We have mentioned

the negligence of the jailer. Francis was amazed at the strange

circumstance. It seemed to him that God called him; he resolved to take

advantage of this unlooked-for opportunity, and went out.

[Sidenote: ESCAPE OF ENZINAS.]

He reached the street and was there alone. The night was very dark,

but was lighted up from time to time by the torches of passengers

traversing the streets or the squares. Enzinas, keeping a little on

one side, considered where he had better go. Every refuge appeared to

him open to suspicion and full of danger. Suddenly he remembered one

man of his acquaintance, of Christian character, in whom he placed

implicit confidence. He betook himself to his place of abode and called

him. 'Come in and stay with me,' said the man. Enzinas replied that it

appeared to him the safest plan to go out of the town that very night.

'Do you know,' he added, 'any part of the walls at which it would be

possible to clear them?' 'Yes,' said the other, 'I will guide you and

will accompany you wherever you wish to go.' The friend took his cloak

and they set out. They went on their way, quite alone in the darkness,

towards the walls. At night these parts were deserted. They found the

spot they were seeking for, and scaled the wall. At that moment the

clocks in the town struck the hour of eight.[156] Their flight had,

therefore, occupied less than half an hour. These two men cleared the

wall as easily as if they had prepared for it long before. Enzinas was

out of the town. 'I often found help of God,' said he, 'while I was in

prison; but never had I experienced it as at this moment.' He resolved

to proceed that same night to Mechlin, and early the next morning to

Antwerp.

A thousand thoughts thronged his mind as he went silently onwards in

the darkness. The gloomy fancies of the prison-house were succeeded by

joyful hopes. Much affected by his wonderful deliverance, he saw in it

a mystery, a hidden will of God. 'Assuredly,' he said, 'if I am set at

liberty, it is to the end that I may be ready for ruder conflicts and

greater dangers,' and as he walked on he prepared himself for them by

prayer. 'O Father of our deliverer Jesus Christ, enlighten my mind,

that I may know the hope of my calling, and that I may faithfully serve

the church of Jesus Christ even to the latest day of my life.'

Thus, sometimes praying and sometimes conversing with the brother who

accompanied him, Enzinas arrived before Mechlin; but as the gates of

the town were not yet opened, he had to wait a long time. At five

o'clock in the morning the officers of the town appeared, and every one

was free to go in or out. As Enzinas entered he saw in front of an

inn a vehicle just on the point of starting, in which sat a man whose

appearance was not calculated to inspire confidence. Enzinas, however,

inquired of him whither he was going. The man replied, 'To Antwerp; and

if you please to get up, the carriage is quite ready.' This man was an

agent of the inquisitors, the secretary Louis de Zoëte. He was one of

the great enemies of the Reformation; he had instituted the proceedings

against Enzinas, and had mustered the witnesses for the prosecution. He

was now on his way to Antwerp, as bearer of a sentence of condemnation

issuing from the imperial court, by virtue of which he was to order

the burning of any evangelicals then in prison. The meeting was not a

pleasant one. Enzinas and De Zoëte had probably only casually seen each

other. The young Spaniard, therefore, not recognizing his enemy, might

with pleasure avail himself of his offer. In this case it was more than

probable that he would be recognized during the journey by the police

spy, whose business was to track and seize suspected persons, as a

hunting dog tracks the game. Zoëte might possibly find means of adding

another to the list of those whom he was going to burn alive. 'Get into

the carriage,' said Enzinas to the Brussels friend who accompanied him.

He got in. The door of the hotel at which Francis had knocked was not

yet opened. While waiting the two friends, one in the carriage, the

other in the street, were talking on various subjects; and the owner of

the carriage hearing them took part likewise in the conversation. At

length the door opened. 'Go with this gentleman,' said Francis to his

friend; 'for my part I must travel faster, and shall go on horseback.'

The people of the inn, who were acquainted with him, welcomed him with

great demonstrations of joy; and on learning his position gave him a

good horse. Without losing a moment he mounted and set out. He soon

overtook the carriage and saluted its occupants. 'Make good speed,'

said his friend. 'I will go so fast,' he replied, 'that if all the

scoundrels in Brussels are determined to pursue me they shall not catch

me.' It seems impossible that De Zoëte should not have heard this, and

it must have given him something to think about.[157]

[Sidenote: A LEGEND.]

In two hours Enzinas was at Antwerp. Unwilling to expose his kinsmen

and friends to danger, he alighted at an inn, with which he was

doubtless familiar, as he had already been at Antwerp several times,

and in which he believed that he should be safe. In the evening his

travelling companion arrived at Antwerp. As soon as he saw Enzinas he

exclaimed: 'You will be greatly astonished to hear in what company I

have come, and who it is that you talked so much with at Mechlin!'

'Who was he, then?' 'The worst man in the whole country, Louis de

Zoëte.' Enzinas thanked God that he had so spell-bound the eyes and

the mind of the persecutor, that while he saw and spoke with him

he had not recognized him. The next day two persons from Brussels,

strangers to Enzinas, arrived at the inn. Enzinas meeting them at

table or elsewhere, said to them: 'What news from Brussels?' 'A great

miracle has just taken place there,' they replied. 'And pray what

may it be?' 'There was a Spaniard who had lain in prison for fifteen

months, and had never been able to obtain either his release or his

trial. But the host which we worship has procured him a miraculous

deliverance. The other evening, just at nightfall, the air suddenly

shone around him with great brightness. The three gates of the prison

opened miraculously before him, and he passed forth from the prison

and from the town, still lighted by that splendor.' 'See, my dear

master,' said Enzinas afterwards to Melanchthon, 'the foolishness of

the popular fancy, which in so short a time dressed up in falsehood a

certain amount of truth. It is quite true that three gates were found

open, else I should not have got out. But as to the brightness, the

light of which they speak, I saw no other than that of the lanterns of

passengers in the street.[158] I attribute my deliverance not to the

wonderful sacrament which these idolaters worship, but solely to the

great mercy of God, who deigned to hear the prayers of his church.'

Along with this popular rumor another was current in Brussels, but in

higher circles. The emperor was at this time at Brussels, which town he

did not leave till April 30, 1545. Don Francis de Enzinas was not an

ordinary prisoner; not a working-man, a cutler, like Giles Tielmans.

An eminent family, a good education, learned attainments, talents, the

title of Spaniard, and of a Spaniard highly spoken of in high places,

these were things greatly esteemed by many at court. Charles the Fifth

himself was far from being unconscious of their importance. He had

promised his protection to Enzinas if there were nothing bad in his

book, and many persons assured him that there was, on the contrary,

nothing but good in it. How, then, could he put to death a scholar

for having translated into good Spanish the inspired book of the

Christians? According to public rumor the judges had said: 'We can not

honorably extricate ourselves from this cause; the best plan is to set

the man free secretly.' It was added that when the jailer had announced

the flight of Enzinas to the president, the latter had replied: 'Let

him go, and do not trouble about it; only do not let it be spoken of.'

If this version were the true one, it would explain the circumstance of

Zoëte's not appearing to recognize Enzinas. But Enzinas himself did not

credit it, and it is probable that it had no better foundation than the

first story.

[Sidenote: CALVIN AND ENZINAS.]

Francis remained a month at Antwerp. On his release from prison he had

sent the news to his friends, and had received their congratulations.

Among these friends were two of the most illustrious of the reformers,

Calvin and Melanchthon, between whom, whatever may be thought of

it, there were many points of resemblance. Calvin was the man, said

Enzinas, whom he had always most warmly loved.[159] He had written

a short letter to him, somewhat unpolished in style.[160] Calvin

replied to his friend immediately in a letter which breathed the most

affectionate feeling, and which Francis thought very remarkable. It

praised his labors and his Christian conduct. 'Oh,' said Enzinas, 'in

how kindly a manner he can speak of things which in themselves are not

deserving of praise!'[161] This singular kindliness of Calvin, which

then struck all his friends, has since been much called in question.

Enzinas replied to him (August 3): 'Our friendship,' said he, 'is now

sealed; between us there is a sacred and perpetual alliance, which can

only be broken by the death of one of us. What do I say? I have this

sweet hope, that when bodily ties shall be broken, we shall enjoy this

friendship in a future life with more exquisite delight than we can in

this mortal flesh. Not till then shall we live a life truly blessed,

and one which shall endure forever in the presence of God and in the

society of the holy angels. Nevertheless, while we are still in this

exile, and while we labor earnestly and unremittingly in our calling,

each according to the ability which he has received from the Lord, let

us cultivate our friendship by fulfilling all its obligations. My dear

Calvin, I have a most grateful sense of the affection which you profess

for me, and I will spare no pains to make myself worthy of it. You will

find in me a sincere friend.... With respect to the pamphlet which you

have addressed to the States of the Empire, Luther has read it and

praises it very heartily. Melanchthon very highly approves it. Cruciger

is wonderfully fond of you, and can not sufficiently commend any

production of yours. As to the censures of others you need not trouble

yourself about them.'[162]

Enzinas not only wrote to Melanchthon, but also went to him. He arrived

at Wittenberg in March, rather more than two years after leaving the

town. He related in detail to his master what had befallen him, and

what he had seen during these two years; and Melanchthon, struck with

his narrative, begged him to write and publish it. 'An account of the

cruelties practised towards Christian people in the Netherlands,' he

said, 'which you have seen with your own eyes, and which you have in

part experienced, for your life was in danger, might if published be

of great service for the future.'[163] Enzinas at first hesitated. 'At

the very time,' said he, 'when I was driven about by the fury of the

tempest, I endured patiently my personal sufferings, considering them

by far inferior to the perils of my brethren. How then can I, in this

hour when, thanks be to God, I am in port, set myself to recount my

own history, in seeming forgetfulness of the wounds of the church?' As

Melanchthon pressed the point, Francis declared that he would yield in

obedience to his command. The friend of Luther, thus satisfied, wrote

to Camerarius (April 16, 1545): 'Our Spaniard, Francis, has returned,

miraculously delivered, without any human aid, at least so far as he

knows. I have begged him to write an account of these things, and I

will send it to thee.' The interest which Melanchthon took in these

facts perhaps justifies the place which we have assigned them in the

history of the Reformation.

[Sidenote: JAMES ENZINAS AT ROME.]

Other sorrows were to overtake the Spaniards who were scattered about

far from their native land. James Enzinas, the eldest brother of

Francis, had hardly got his Spanish catechism printed at Antwerp

before he received his father's orders to go to Rome. The ambitious

father was desirous of honors and fortune for his eldest son. He

was aware of James's talents, but he was unaware of his attachment

to the evangelical faith, and had no doubt that if he were at Rome

he would make his way to the higher dignities of the church. It was

glory of another kind which James was to find there. He was bitterly

grieved; he would have greatly preferred to go to Wittenberg. But his

conscience was so tender, his character so simple and straightforward,

his obedience to his father so absolute, that he felt bound in duty to

set out for the metropolis of the papacy. There he spent two or three

years, taking no pleasure in it, sorrowing over all that he witnessed,

and not by any means ingratiating himself with the hierarchy. His

abilities, his attainments, his character were esteemed; but he was

far from gaining any thing thereby. On the contrary, melancholy,

dissatisfaction, and even disgust, took possession of him at every

thing around him. He saw things not only contrary to Christian truth,

but contrary to uprightness and to virtue. He felt that he was in a

wrong position, and entreated his father to allow him to leave Italy,

but in vain. The old man, considering the path which two of his sons

were pursuing in Germany, probably believed that he should at least

save the eldest by keeping him at Rome. The frank disposition of James

did not allow him entirely to hide his convictions, especially from

his fellow-countrymen. Francis also, who knew him well, was very much

alarmed about him. He had no doubt that his brother, if he remained at

Rome, would be ruined. He therefore implored him to cross the Alps.

James did not indulge in any delusions. He knew that, instead of the

honors of which his father was dreaming, he could hope for nothing in

the city of the pope but disgrace and death. He determined, therefore,

to yield to the entreaties of his brother, and made ready to depart.

He might, doubtless, have quitted Rome by stratagem, and have secretly

escaped. But he was too candid entirely to conceal his purpose. One

of his countrymen was informed of it and hastened to denounce him

to the Inquisition as a heretic. James was then arrested and thrown

into strict confinement. His arrest made a great noise. A Spaniard

accused of Lutheranism! A man of learning and of an ancient family

opposed to the Church! An enemy of the pope living close by the pope!

What strange things! The Inquisition, therefore, determined to make

of this trial an imposing affair. There was 'a great assembly of the

Romans' to attend at his examination. James appeared in the presence

not only of the inquisitors, but also of the cardinals, bishops, and

all Spaniards of eminence then at Rome, and of several members of the

Roman clergy. If the popes had been unable, notwithstanding their

efforts, to keep Luther in their hands, they had now at least one of

his disciples in their power. James Enzinas, in the presence of this

imposing assembly, perceived that God gave him suddenly, and at Rome

itself, an opportunity of glorifying him and of doing, once for all,

the work to which he had desired to consecrate his whole life. He

took courage. He understood perfectly well that the 'lion's mouth'

was opening before him, the gulf of death. But neither the solemnity

of the hour, nor the brilliancy of the court, nor the thought that he

was about to be swept away by a fatal stroke, nor all that was dear

to him on earth, could make him swerve from the straight path. 'He

maintained with great constancy,' says the chronicler, 'and with holy

boldness the true doctrine of the Gospel.' He did more. Standing thus

in the presence of the princes of the Roman church, and of all their

pomp, he thought that fidelity required him to expose their errors. 'He

forthwith condemned,' says the narrator, 'the impieties and diabolical

impositions of the great Roman antichrist.' At these words a thrill ran

through the assembly. The whole court was in commotion. The prelates,

annoyed at what they heard, were agitated as if under the influence

of some acute nervous irritation. They cried out in astonishment and

anger. The Spaniards especially could not contain themselves. 'All at

once, not only the cardinals, but those of his own country who were

present, began to cry aloud that he ought to be burnt.'[164]

[Sidenote: HIS MARTYRDOM.]

After a little reflection, however, the court was of a different

opinion. If the Spaniard should publicly condemn in Rome his so-called

errors, the glory of the papacy, it was thought, would be all the

greater. The speaker was surrounded and was told that if he would

appear in the public square and retract his heresies, the Church would

once more receive him as one of her children. His fellow-countrymen

pressed around him and depicted the honors to which he might then

attain. But on such a condition he would not redeem his life. He would

rather glorify Christ and die. The wrath of his enemies burst forth

afresh. 'These fierce ministers of all impiety and cruelty,' says the

chronicler, 'became more violent than before.' James then ascended

the pile, asserting with immovable courage that all his hope was in

Christ. 'Unawed by the pompous display which surrounded him, and by

the ostentatious devotion of his countrymen, with his heart ever fixed

on God, he passed on boldly and firmly into the midst of the flames,

confessing the name and the truth of the Son of God to his latest

breath. Thus did this good servant of God end his life by a glorious

martyrdom, in the midst of all impiety, and, wonderful to tell, in the

very city of Rome.'[165]

At the news of his death his brothers and his friends were filled

with sorrow. Francis at first felt only the blow which had fallen

on his tenderest affections. At the very time when he was in daily

expectation of embracing his brother he learnt that all that was left

of him was a handful of ashes which were cast into the Tiber. This

cruel death, taking place just when Charles the Fifth was endeavoring

to crush Protestantism, and the black clouds which were gathering in

all directions, filled him with the most melancholy thoughts. 'God is

surely preparing some great dispensation of which we know nothing,'

he said. All around he saw only disorder and confusion. In this hour

of dejection he received a sympathetic and consoling letter from

Calvin.[166] The reformer directed his friend's thoughts to the blessed

life which is after death, and in which it is the privilege of the

faithful to dwell with Christ. 'I am not ignorant,' replied Enzinas,

'how true are the things which you write to me. But we are men, and

the infirmities of the flesh beset us. We can not, nay, we ought not,

to cast off all sense of sorrow. But in the midst of this distress I

rejoice that there was given to this brave Christian so much constancy

in the profession of the truth, and I am persuaded that for some wise

purpose my brother has been removed to that eternal assembly of the

blessed, in which the loftiest spirits now greet him with this song

of triumph: _These are they who have washed their robes and made them

white in the blood of the Lamb_.' Francis in his grief did not forget

his native land. 'God grant,' said he, 'that the tidings of this divine

fire,[167] wherewith my brother's soul glowed, may be diffused in

every part of Spain, to the end that the noblest minds, stimulated by

his example, may at length repent of the impiety in which at present

they are living.' This letter from Enzinas to Calvin was written from

Basel, April 14, 1547.

CHAPTER V.

FANATICISM AND BROTHERLY LOVE. JUAN DIAZ.

(1545-1547.)

[Sidenote: ENMITIES OF BROTHERS.]

History, both sacred and profane, opens, so to speak, with the

enmities of brothers. Cain and Abel, Atreus and Thyestes, Eteocles and

Polynices, Romulus and Remus, inaugurate with their murderous hatred

the origin of human society or the beginning of empires. This remark of

an eminent thinker, M. Saint-Marc Girardin, may be carried farther. In

the first days of Christianity, Jesus, when announcing to his disciples

the tribulations which awaited them, said: _The brother will deliver

up the brother to death_. Similar unnatural conduct is likewise to

be met with at the second great epoch of Christianity, that of the

Reformation. Strange! that a doctrine so worthy to be loved should be

enough to arouse hatred against those who profess it, and even hatred

of so monstrous a kind as to show itself in fratricide.

Brotherly love is one of the most beautiful features of human nature.

A brother is a friend, but a friend created with ourselves. Brothers

have the same father, the same mother, the same ancestors, the same

youth, the same family, and many things besides in common. A brother

is not merely a friend whom we meet and cling to, although that is no

small blessing; he is a friend given by God, a second self. But just

in proportion to the sacredness of the bond of brotherhood is the

depth of the evil when it is disregarded. The nearer brother stands

to brother, the deeper is the wound inflicted when they clash. The

noblest feelings of our nature are then trampled under foot, and

nothing is left but the most egotistic, the most savage instincts. The

man disappears, and the tiger takes his place. While the history of

the Reformation brings before us examples of the tenderest brotherly

affection, as, for example, in the case of the Enzinas, it presents us

also with some of those tragic catastrophes which must draw from us a

cry of horror.

[Sidenote: JUAN DIAZ.]

Among the Spaniards who were studying at Paris about 1540 there was,

besides James Enzinas, a young man from Cuença, named Juan Diaz. After

making a good beginning in Spain, he had gone in 1532 to complete his

studies at Paris, at the Sorbonne, at the Collège Royal, instituted by

Francis I. There, by his progress in learning, he had soon attained a

distinguished position among the students. At first he applied himself,

like a genuine Spaniard, to scholastic theology. He became intimate

with one of his fellow-countrymen, Peter Malvenda, a man older than

himself, and a doctor of the Sorbonne, who was subsequently much

employed by Granvella and by Charles the Fifth. Malvenda was a man

rich in resources, but also full of prejudices, superstitions, and the

pride which is the usual characteristic of the Roman doctors. Diaz, on

the contrary was characterized by great meekness, benevolence, candor

and simplicity, integrity, plain-dealing, prudence and purity of life.

Having a deep sense of the value of the sacred writings, he was anxious

to read them in the original, and therefore studied Hebrew and Greek

with unflagging earnestness. The reading of the sacred books opened

before him a new world. The conflict between two doctrines which was

agitating Christendom began within himself. What ought he to believe?

Diligent in prayer, says one of his biographers, he very fervently

prayed God to give him the pure knowledge of his holy will.[168] He

became intimate with his fellow-countryman, James Enzinas, and they

read the Scriptures together, James giving an explanation of them. The

eyes of Diaz were opened, and the same Spirit which had inspired the

sacred writers made known to him the Saviour whom they proclaimed. He

clung to him by faith and henceforth sought for righteousness in him

alone. He gave up the scholastic theology, embraced the Gospel, and

became the associate of men who shared his own convictions. Among these

were Claude de Senarclens, Matthew Budé, son of the illustrious William

Budé, and John Crespin, son of a jurisconsult of Arras, advocate to the

parliament of Paris. Impressed with the beauty of evangelical doctrine,

Diaz was convinced that he must not hide it. He burned 'to exhibit

it before the world,' he said. He felt at the same time the need of

gaining more knowledge and more power, and of being strengthened in

the faith by experienced teachers. He therefore left Paris and betook

himself to Geneva with Matthew Budé and Crespin, 'for the purpose of

seeing the state of the church in that town and the admirable order

which was established there.' Diaz stayed in the house of the minister

Nicholas des Gallars. This visit took place in 1545.[169]

After having conversed with the great reformer, set forth his faith,

and received his approval of his doctrine as good and holy, Diaz

felt it desirable to visit the evangelical churches of Germany.

His stay extended to about three months, and he then went first to

Basel, afterwards to Strasburg. Bucer and his friends were delighted

with the young Spaniard, with his acquirements, his talents, his

agreeable manners, and especially with his piety. Admitted to

familiar intercourse with them, he entered more and more fully into

the knowledge of evangelical doctrines and affairs. He enjoyed the

conversation of these Christian people and the free and hearty manners

which prevailed among them. He had no thought of quitting Strasburg;

but a circumstance which occurred about six months afterwards led to

his removal.

[Sidenote: AT RATISBON.]

As the Protestants declined to recognize the Council of Trent, which

had been opened in December, 1545, the Elector Palatine had proposed

a colloquy between the two parties, and this conference opened at

Ratisbon, January 27, 1546. Bucer had been nominated one of the

delegates on the part of the Reformation; and the Senate of Strasburg,

judging that a Spanish convert from Catholicism to Protestantism, a

man rich in knowledge and in virtue, would carry much weight in the

discussion, associated Diaz with his friend. At Ratisbon, Bucer and

Diaz found as champions of the papacy, Malvenda, whom Diaz had known

at Paris, Cochlaeus,[170] and the Carmelite monk Billik. These three

were determined to maintain the extremest doctrines of the papacy; for

seeing that the council was assembled they feared that if they made

any concession they would be struck with the same anathemas as the

Protestants. Without hesitation Diaz went to see Malvenda. Malvenda was

his senior, and he ought to pay his respects to him. Perhaps he hoped

that the ties which had formerly united them would give him some hold

on the mind of his countryman. Presenting himself, therefore, with one

of his friends, he told him with the utmost simplicity that he was

come to Ratisbon with Bucer for the purpose of defending the doctrines

of the Reformation. Malvenda could believe neither his own eyes nor

ears. He remained for a short time astounded, as if some monster had

made its appearance.[171] The expression of his countenance and the

restlessness of his movements displayed his astonishment and alarm. At

length he said: 'What! Juan Diaz at Ratisbon! Juan Diaz in Germany, and

in the company of Protestants!... No, I am deceived; it is a phantom

before me, resembling Diaz indeed in stature and in feature, but it

is a mere empty image!' The young Spaniard assured the doctor that he

really was there present before him. 'Wretched man,' said Malvenda,

'do you not know that the Protestants will pride themselves far more

on having gained over to their doctrine one single Spaniard than if

they had converted ten thousand Germans or an in infinite number of

men of other nations?' Diaz wondered at these words, for it seemed to

him that the sovereign will could convert a Spaniard as easily as a

German. Malvenda, then, no longer in doubt as to the real presence of

Diaz in flesh and blood before him, assailed him with questions blow

after blow. 'Hast thou been long in Germany? What ails thee that thou

hast come into these parts? Dost thou understand the doctrine of Martin

Bucer and the other Germans?' and so forth. Diaz, with more presence

of mind than his master, replied quietly and modestly: 'I have been

almost six months in this country. My object in coming was to see here

religion established in its purity, and to confer with the learned

men who are to be found here. The true knowledge of God is before

every thing; and in a matter so important I would rather trust my own

eyes than the false reports of evil men. I had a wish to see _this

poison_; and as I find that the churches of Germany are in agreement

with antiquity, and have in their favor the perpetual consent of the

apostles and prophets, I can not reject their doctrine.'[172]

This admiration for Germany very much astonished Malvenda. 'Oh!' cried

he, 'it is an exceedingly wretched lot to live in this country. For any

man who loves the unity of Rome, six weeks' sojourn here is a burden

as oppressive as six years; nay, say rather six centuries. Six days

in Germany make me older than a long lifetime. Every honest man must

beware of what is taught here. Much more must thou, Diaz, beware,

who belongest to a land in which the religion of our holy mother the

Church has always flourished. Respect, therefore, thine own reputation,

and do not bring dishonor on thyself, nor on thy family, nor on the

whole Spanish nation.' As Diaz was accompanied by one of his friends,

Malvenda, embarrassed, did not pursue the subject farther. But they

agreed to meet again.

Malvenda prepared to make use of his fine rhetorical powers in striking

the heaviest blows for the purpose of bringing back into the Roman

fold this sheep which as he thought had gone astray. When Diaz made

his appearance again, this time alone, Malvenda said: 'Dost thou not

perceive all the dangers which are threatening at once thy body and

thy soul? Dost thou not see the formidable thunderbolts of the pope,

the vicar of the Son of God, which are about to fall upon thee? And

dost thou not know with what a horrible execration those are smitten

whom he excommunicates, so that they become the plague of the human

race? Is it well, then, to venture, for the sake of the opinion of a

small number of people, to stir up sedition in all countries and to

disturb the public peace? Dost thou not dread the judgment of God, and

the abhorrence of all thy fellow-countrymen?' Assuming, then, the most

kindly air, he continued: 'I promise to aid thee, to befriend thee

in this matter to the utmost of my power. But do not wait until the

emperor arrives at Ratisbon; go to meet him, cast thyself at the feet

of his confessor, and entreat him to pardon thine offence.'

'I am not afraid,' replied Diaz, modestly but decisively, 'of exposing

myself to danger for the purpose of maintaining the heavenly doctrine

on which our salvation depends, or even of shedding my blood to bear

testimony to the religion of Christ. To me this would be a great honor

and a great glory.'

[Sidenote: HIS INTERVIEW WITH MALVENDA.]

Malvenda shuddered at these words. If what Diaz said was true, what

Rome said was false; and yet his fellow-countryman was ready to die

to testify the truth of his belief. 'No,' exclaimed the priest, 'the

pope, vicar of Christ, _can not err_.' 'What!' resumed Diaz, 'the popes

infallible! Monsters defiled within and without with enormous crimes

infallible!' Malvenda acknowledged that some of the popes had led

impure lives; but, as he was anxious to drop this subject, he declared

to Diaz that it was mere loss of time to come to the colloquy, and that

no good would arise from it. He added that if Diaz wished to do any

good, he ought to go to the Council of Trent, which was established

by the pope and attended by many prelates. Diaz quitted the doctor,

resolved to see him no more privately.[173]

The young Spaniard had now ruined himself with the doctor. The

affection which Malvenda had felt for him gave place to implacable

hatred, and as he had not succeeded in gaining him over, his only

thought now was to ruin him. With this view he applied to the confessor

of Charles the Fifth, of whose influence he was aware. 'There is now

at Ratisbon,' he wrote, 'a young Spaniard whom I once knew at Paris

as an obedient son of Rome, but who now avows himself an enemy of the

church and a friend of the Lutherans. If such things are permitted,

Spain is lost, and you will see her claiming to shake off her shoulders

the burdens with which she will profess to be overwhelmed. I implore

you to avert such a calamity, even if necessary by a violent remedy.'

Malvenda was not content with writing one letter. As the confessor gave

no answer, he wrote other letters, 'far more harsh and violent than the

first.'

De Soto had not answered at once because he was perplexed. He was quite

capable of feeling the worth of such a man as Juan Diaz; and, whatever

the chroniclers may have said, he had previously been struck with the

excellencies of Enzinas, and had winked at his escape. Moreover, the

case was one of real difficulty. Diaz, being one of a deputation sent

to a colloquy approved by the emperor, was protected against violent

measures, except at the cost of a renewal of the breach of faith

of which John Huss had been the victim. Just at the time when the

confessor received from Malvenda his last violent letter, he had with

him another Spaniard, named Marquina, who was entrusted with a mission

for Rome, respecting which he was conversing with the confessor. 'See,'

said De Soto, 'what trouble our Spaniards give us,' and he read to him

Malvenda's letter. Marquina, who was an old friend of Juan Diaz, had

always looked upon him as a model of honesty and piety. He therefore

said to De Soto: 'Put no faith in Malvenda's statements. He is no

doubt impelled by some private ill-will. Believe, rather, the public

testimonies of good men, who have at all times approved the character

and the doctrine of Diaz.' But De Soto was not convinced. 'We must,'

he said, 'either convert him, or get him put out of the way.' Did he

mean that he was to be imprisoned or put to death? The latter seems

the most probable conclusion. Nevertheless De Soto was not so black

as Protestant writers depict him. In 1560 he was prosecuted by the

Inquisition of Valladolid, on suspicion of Lutheranism.[174] His

intercourse with such men as Enzinas and Diaz might well tend to make

him afterwards more just towards a doctrine which he had at first

condemned. Marquina set out for Rome.

[Sidenote: ALONZO IN GERMANY.]

In this metropolis was a brother of Juan Diaz, named Alonzo, an

advocate practising before the Roman tribunals. Marquina related to

him all that he had heard about Juan. Alonzo loved his brother, but

he loved Rome still more. At this news, therefore, he was plunged into

a deep melancholy. Juan a heretic! What a misfortune for him, but what

an offence also against the Church! Alonzo, though not a thorough

bigot, was violent, and was smitten with that gloomy and cruel madness

which fancies that it is defending the church of God when persecuting

those who hold contrary doctrines. He was not without affection for

those of his own kin; but he was pitiless towards them if ever they

attacked the faith. He would rather they should all perish than be

guilty of an outrage against the Church. He was not only superstitious

but fanatical; and fanaticism is to superstition what delirium is to

fever. As soon as he was informed of the letters which Malvenda had

written to the confessor, Alonzo determined to go to Germany and to

make use of all available means to bring back his brother to the faith

or to retrieve the injury done by him to the Church. He selected as his

servant a man of evil repute, took post and went with the utmost speed

to Augsburg, and thence to Ratisbon, where he expected to find his

brother. This journey was made in March, 1546. The conference was just

on the point of closing without having accomplished any thing, and Juan

Diaz had already left Ratisbon.

Alonzo was greatly annoyed at this news, and resolved to have an

interview without delay with Malvenda. The latter had no hesitation as

to what was to be done. 'May I live to see the day,' said he, 'on which

Juan Diaz will be burnt ... and his soul thus be saved.' 'A brutal

speech,' says Crespin, the friend of Juan, 'altogether diabolical and

worthy of eternal wrath.' But in those times of error, when people

fancied that false doctrine ought to be punished like any ordinary

crime, it is possible that this priest, in uttering the wish that the

soul should be saved at the cost of the body, might imagine that it

was really a pious and charitable speech. The human understanding was

then, and had been for ages, profoundly and miserably mistaken on this

matter.

Malvenda and Alonzo discussed together what was to be done. First of

all, they said, inquiry must be made most carefully in what place,

country, town, or village, Juan then was. Malvenda summoned a Spaniard

of his house in whom he had full confidence, and bade him find out

where it was conjectured that Juan was concealed. This Spaniard, who

was a crafty man, invented a tale which he thought would ensure his

success, and presented himself to one of the friends of Juan--whether

Senarclens or another we do not know. 'Letters of great importance,'

he said, 'addressed to Diaz have arrived at the imperial court. If

he receive them, it will be of great advantage to him. We beg you,

therefore, to tell us instantly in what place we may deliver them.' The

friend of Diaz, who knew with whom he had to do, replied: 'We do not

know where he is; but if you have any papers to forward to him, please

hand them over to us and we will take care that they reach him safely.'

Alonzo and Malvenda, greatly disappointed at receiving such an

answer, devised a new trick, the success of which appeared to them

infallible. The Spaniard returned to the friend of Diaz and said: 'It

is not a question about papers only; there is now at the Crown hotel a

gentleman, a great friend of Diaz, who brings him news and letters of

the highest importance. He is bound to deliver them to him in person.

Pray come and speak to him at the inn.'[175]

[Sidenote: ALONZO FINDS JUAN.]

Alonzo's stratagem succeeded to his heart's content. He discovered

ere long his brother's place of retirement. Juan, on the approach of

Charles the Fifth,[176] felt that he could not remain at Ratisbon, and

therefore had betaken himself to Neuburg, where he ran less risk than

at Ratisbon, as the town was within the jurisdiction of Otto Henry, the

elector palatine. He was engaged there in superintending the printing

of a work by Bucer.[177] It was a great surprise to him to see his

brother, whose attachment to the papacy he well knew. The first days of

their meeting were spent in painful debates. Alonzo put forth all his

energy to snatch his brother from heresy. He made the best of all the

arguments which he thought likely to prevail with him. He reminded him

of the disgrace which would be reflected on the name of his family, the

perils to which he exposed himself, prison, exile, the scaffold, and

the stake with which he was threatened. Juan remained inflexible. 'I

am ready,' he replied, 'to suffer any thing for the sake of publicly

confessing the doctrine which I have embraced.' Failing to terrify his

brother, Alonzo attempted to seduce him. He offered him the wealth and

honors wherewith Rome would willingly have paid for reconciliation with

her adversaries. 'Follow me to Rome,' he said, 'and all these things

are yours.' Juan was still less open to the solicitations of worldly

ambition than he had been to threats of possible danger.

Alonzo soon perceived that these methods would avail him nothing, and

he therefore changed his tactics. He pretended that he was himself

overcome by the faith and the generous feeling of his brother, and

professed himself gained over to the Gospel. 'Come with me to Italy,'

said he; 'there you will find a large number of souls open to the

knowledge of the truth, and among these you will have opportunity of

doing a great work of mercy. Germany possesses pious men in abundance

to instruct it. Italy is in want of them. Come with me.' Juan was

almost carried away by this appeal. He was desirous, however, of

consulting his friends. These dissuaded him from such an enterprise,

and felt suspicious of his brother's sincerity. Diaz still hesitated.

He wrote to Bernard Ochino, pastor at Augsburg: 'I must close my eyes

to the world that I may follow only the call of Christ. May he be my

light, my guide, my support! I have not yet come to a decision. Whether

I am to set out or to remain here, I desire only to do the will of God.

My trust is in Christ, who promises me a happy issue.' His friends

Bucer, Senarclens, and others hastened to him in alarm, and at length

succeeded in dissuading him from quitting the asylum in which he was

safe under the protection of the elector palatine.

Alonzo, though deeply annoyed, dissembled his anger. He should cherish,

he said, the memory of the pleasant moments which he had spent in his

brother's company; he carried away in himself a light which he would

not allow to be extinguished; he commended himself to the prayers of

this brother who had become his father in Jesus Christ. He wept much,

and on March 26, 1546, he took his departure, his servant accompanying

him. The latter was a man accustomed to the shedding of blood. He had

been an executioner; and he made a trade of selling his services to

any one who wanted to get rid of an enemy by the sword or by poison.

The two men went to Augsburg, carefully concealing their presence. The

next day, after changing their dress, they retraced the road by which

they had come. On the way Alonzo bought a hatchet of a carpenter. He

slept in a village not far from Neuburg; and on March 27, just as the

day began to dawn, he re-entered the town with the man who was in

his service. This man knocked at the door of the house in which Diaz

lodged, and showing some letters which he said that he brought from his

brother, requested to be admitted. Notwithstanding the early morning

hour he was allowed to enter the house, and went up the stair-case

while Alonzo waited below, prepared to assist in case of need.

[Sidenote: FRATRICIDE.]

Juan, waking with a start, rose and went out of his chamber,

half-dressed, and received with kindliness his brother's messenger.

The latter handed a letter to him. The still faint light of the dawn

scarcely penetrated into the room; Juan went to the window and began

reading. Alonzo expressed to his brother the fears he felt for his

personal safety. 'Above all,' said he, 'do not trust Malvenda, who only

thirsts for the blood of the saints. From afar I watch over you, and in

giving you this warning I discharge a duty of brotherly piety.'[178]

While Diaz was reading, the murderer approached him, and, armed with

the hatchet which he had concealed under his cloak, plunged it up to

the handle in the skull of the unfortunate man, over the right temple.

So violent was the blow that the victim fell without uttering a word.

The assassin caught him in his arms and laid him quietly upon the

floor, and then fled without making any noise which might have betrayed

the horrible deed which had just been done.

The friend of Diaz, Senarclens, who was sleeping in his own chamber,

heard nothing but the footsteps of the murderer as he descended the

stairs. He rose hastily, ran to his friend, and found him dying. The

hatchet had been left buried in the wound. Juan Diaz lived an hour

longer but did not speak again. His hands were joined, his lips moved

as if in prayer, and his eyes fixed on heaven showed the mark toward

which he pressed.

Meanwhile the assassins were flying as fast as their horses could

carry them. Swiftly pursued, they passed through Augsburg without

stopping, and at length found refuge at Innspruch, in the dominions of

the archduke Ferdinand, king of the Romans. All Germany was stirred

by this odious crime; and the punishment of the guilty was demanded

from all quarters. But by the intervention of the emperor they escaped

the condemnation which they had deserved, and, if we are to believe

Castro,[179] Charles even raised the fratricide to the highest honors

and dignities.

CHAPTER VI.

SPANIARDS IN SPAIN.

(1534-1542.)

The doctrines of the Gospel were slowly spreading in Spain; their

advance was silent, but it was none the less rapid. The Catholic

Illescas, in his _Historia Pontifical_, asserts that 'so great were the

number, the rank, and the importance of the _culprits_, that if the

application of the remedy had been delayed for two or three months, the

whole of Spain would have been on fire.' The Reformation would have

wrought the salvation of this people, not only in a moral and religious

sense, but also in respect to national prosperity and greatness.

Unfortunately the papacy and Philip II. had the last word, and they

ensured its ruin.

[Sidenote: BARTHOLOMEW CARRANZA.]

We have seen that the Gospel had been well received at Seville, in

the south; it was likewise welcomed at Valladolid, in the north, the

usual seat of the king. There was one man who at this epoch, by reason

of his ability, the offices with which he was invested, the missions

which were entrusted to him, and his religious character, played

an important part in Spain. He passed for one of the most violent

enemies of evangelical truth; and such indeed he was, but ultimately

he became himself an evangelical, at least in essential points.

This was Bartholomew Carranza, who was born in 1503, at Miranda, in

Navarre, and was at this time teaching theology at Valladolid with

great applause. He had completed his studies at the university of

Alcala, and in 1520 had entered the Dominican order. While he was at

the college of St. Gregory of Valladolid, in 1527, he had undertaken

the defence of Erasmus, and had consequently been denounced to the Holy

Office. At a still earlier period he had conversed with a Dominican

older than himself, Professor Michael de Saint Martin, on _matters

pertaining to the conscience_. The doctor found that the young monk

greatly limited the power of the pope. For this he had been rebuked

and ultimately denounced to the Holy Office (November 19, 1530). But

these two denunciations came to nothing. It was found that the evidence

was not sufficient to support an accusation. On the revival of the

denunciations at a later period, Carranza, who by this time had become

an archbishop, was placed under arrest. At an early age he had felt

some relish for the truth. Had he lived in the midst of Gospel light he

would have joyfully received it; but the darkness of Rome withheld him

and for a long time led him astray. In 1534 he was appointed professor

of theology at Valladolid, and in 1539 he was named a delegate to Rome

to attend a chapter of his order. He maintained there some theses

with so much success that Pope Paul III. gave him permission to read

prohibited books. The reading of these was afterwards of advantage to

him. At this time he enjoyed the reputation of a fervent Catholic.

His opposition to heretics, his olive-colored complexion, and the

sombre costume of his order, earned him the surname of the _black

monk_. Nevertheless he displayed altogether a superior mind; and in

consequence of this he was early distinguished by Charles the Fifth.

If he were then strongly attached to Roman doctrines it was with

sincerity, because he believed them to be true; and he was, moreover, a

stranger to petty ecclesiastical superstitions.[180]

Carranza's teaching, perhaps, contributed to make the Gospel attractive

to younger minds at Valladolid. At first they showed some timidity;

but the cruel death of one of the most earnest Spanish Christians

inspired them, about the middle of the century, with more zeal and

courage. Among the disciples of Carranza was Don Domingo de Roxas,

son of the marquis of Poza--a name rendered illustrious by a great

poet--and whose mother was a daughter of the count of Selinas. This

young man, who was destined by his parents for the church, was amiable,

upright, a lover of truth, keenly susceptible and impressible, endowed

likewise with courage, but not with that immovable firmness which

belongs to powerful characters. He listened with enthusiasm to the

lectures of Carranza, who in certain cases made use of the phrases

of the reformers, while condemning their doctrines. The same was

afterwards done by the Council of Trent, to which Carranza was sent

as delegate by Charles the Fifth. He used to say that man, since his

fall, could not be justified by the power of nature; but that he is

justified by Jesus Christ. To these assertions, however, he added

explanations which weakened them. 'The moral power of man,' he said,

'is indeed diminished but not destroyed; he is able to incline himself

to righteousness, and faith justifies only so far as charity is added

to it.'

Ere long Domingo showed less timidity than his master. He laid

aside every thing that weakened the doctrine and embraced the pure

faith drawn from the Word of God. At the same time that he listened

to Carranza he was reading Luther and Melanchthon, and he thought

their doctrines more evangelical and more powerful than those of his

master. The professor trembled lest his disciple should become a

heretic and should raise up others. What to Roxas appeared a friendly

light, seemed to Carranza the signal of a conflagration. In vain

he endeavored to prove to young de Roxas the mass and purgatory.

The latter, understanding that the truth was the property of all,

communicated it to those around him. He put into circulation the works

of the reformers; he composed others himself. Among the latter was an

'Exposition of the Faith.' By these means he gained over to the Gospel

several inhabitants of Valladolid. He encountered opposition on the

part of some members of his own family; but he found access to others,

as well as to several noble houses of Castile.[181]

[Sidenote: AUGUSTINE CAZALLA.]

Another young Castilian, Augustine Cazalla, a contemporary of Roxas,

at the age of seventeen had had Carranza as his confessor; and he

attended, at the same time as Domingo, the lectures of this illustrious

master at the college of St. Gregory at Valladolid. His father was

director of the royal finances, and his mother Leonora (whose maiden

name was de Vibero), a friend of the friends of the Gospel, opened her

house to them, and freely welcomed the refugees who were driven by

persecution from their own abodes. On this account the house of Leonora

was afterwards razed, and on its ruins fanaticism erected a monumental

stone, which remained there till our own days.[182] Cazalla completed

his studies at Alcala, became canon of Salamanca, and attained a

position in the first rank of Spanish preachers. The circumstances in

which he was placed, and particularly the hospitality of his mother,

prepared him to receive the Gospel. He was even accused of having

'openly taught in the Lutheran conventicles of Valladolid.' It appears,

however, that he did not publicly declare himself for the Word of God

until the emperor, having nominated him his preacher and almoner, took

him with him into Germany, where he had frequent intercourse with the

Lutherans.[183]

Even before Cazalla decided for the Gospel Don Domingo de Roxas had

found a powerful assistant in the evangelization of Valladolid and its

neighborhood. An Italian noble, Don Carlos de Seso, born at Verona, of

one of the first families of the country, had distinguished himself

in the service of the emperor, and had, it seems, learnt something

at an early age of the doctrine of the Reformation. He settled in

Spain, and during his residence at Valladolid became intimate with

the evangelical Christians of that city. He had a cultivated mind,

great nobility of character, gentlemanly manners, and much zeal for

the truth. Having become a Spaniard, he discharged in his adopted

country certain civil functions; and this afforded him opportunities

of diffusing with more freedom the knowledge of the Gospel. He did

this zealously in some towns situated to the east of Valladolid, on

the banks of the Douro; at Toro, where this river is spanned by the

numerous arches of an immense bridge, and where Seso was _corregidor_;

and, somewhat further eastward, in the melancholy and sombre Zamora,

which the Cid had reconquered from the Moors, and where the ruins of

his palace were to be seen. His active exertions were next put forth

in another quarter. We find him proclaiming the love of God in Jesus

Christ at Valencia, to the north of Valladolid, and under the very

walls of its beautiful cathedral. He afterwards married Doña Isabella

de Castilla, niece of the bishop of Calahorra, and a descendant of

King Pedro the Cruel, and took up his abode at Villa Mediana. Here he

became very successful in the evangelization of Logroño, and the rich

and fertile districts lying around, which are watered by the Ebro. Don

Carlos de Seso was remarkable for the energy of his faith, the vigor

of his language, and the devotion of his whole being to Jesus Christ.

He was to give evidence of his courage at the time of his death, by

apostrophizing the cruel Philip II. himself, whose fanatical answer

became celebrated.[184]

[Sidenote: DE ROXAS.]

Don Domingo de Roxas had a sister, the marchioness of Alcagnices,

whose character bore much resemblance to his own, and who, like

him, attached herself to Carranza, but with still more enthusiasm.

She found in him a faithful, pious, and disinterested guide; not a

director, but a Christian friend. She as well as her brother had

frequent conversations with Carranza. Domingo on one occasion was

speaking with joy about the complete justification of the sinner by

the grace of Christ. 'But,' he added, 'I do not see how this truth

is to be reconciled with purgatory.' 'It would be no great harm,'

said Carranza, 'if there were no purgatory.' Domingo was astonished,

and replied by citing the decisions of the church. His master then

closed the discussion by saying: 'You are not at present capable of

thoroughly understanding this matter.' In a little while, Domingo,

convinced that the justification of man is the essence of Christianity,

returned to the subject; and Carranza told him that he did not see in

Holy Scripture any clear proofs of the existence of purgatory.[185] De

Roxas rejoiced to hear this, for he desired above all things that his

master should unreservedly accept the doctrines of the Gospel. But this

was not so easy as he thought, and whenever he made a timid attempt

to induce him to adopt them, Carranza at once checked him. 'Beware,'

said he, 'lest you allow yourself to be carried away by your talents.'

The disciple then withdrew disheartened. Carranza's refusal to follow

him in all the evangelical doctrines 'excited his deepest compassion,'

and also occasioned him the greatest grief. 'For,' he said, 'if Don

Bartholomew entirely received the true faith, he would induce my sister

to adopt it, so completely does the marchioness yield to his opinion.'

Filled with confidence, Roxas added: 'I am still in hope of seeing this

change effected;' and allured still further and further by his hopes he

exclaimed: 'If so great a change as this be wrought in Carranza, _the

king and all Spain will embrace this religion_.'[186]

The faith of Carranza seemed in fact to become brighter and more real,

so that the fine castles in the air which the young and ardent De

Roxas was building were not altogether unfounded. One day, not long

afterwards, Carranza, when preaching at Valladolid in Passion week,

was suddenly carried away by the liveliness of his faith and the

warmth of his love for the Saviour; and speaking as if he saw heaven

opened, as if he discerned not only the image of the Saviour, but the

Saviour himself crucified, he spoke with enthusiasm of the unutterable

blessedness of such contemplation for faithful souls, and extolled

with all his power _the justification of men by a living faith in the

passion and the death of Jesus Christ_. 'Really,' said the bishop

Peter de Castro, who was present, 'Carranza preached to-day as Philip

Melanchthon might have done.' The bishop informed the illustrious

orator of his own way of thinking; the latter replied only by keeping

profound silence.[187] Carranza afterwards preached a sermon of a

similar kind before Philip II. in London, whither he had accompanied

the king, and where he prosecuted the evangelical teachers of Oxford

and other places, while sometimes preaching the same doctrines as

they did. The fanaticism of Catholic unity and universality stifled

in his soul the claims of Christian faith. The new man, formed within

by divine grace, was in his case kept down by the natural man, whose

instincts had been rendered more cruel by the influence of Rome and the

Inquisition.

[Sidenote: WORKS OF CARRANZA.]

The marchioness of Alcagnices could not do without him. The piety

of Carranza met her deepest wants, and his attachment to Rome was a

ground of confidence to her that in adopting his faith she was not

separating from the church. Anxious to enjoy his teaching even when

he was absent, she caused copies to be made of his Spanish works,

and had translations made of those which were in Latin. In this task

she employed the friar Francis de Tordesillas. This monk, who was a

strictly orthodox man, was occasionally shocked, while making these

translations and copies, by certain phrases which appeared to have

a Lutheran tendency. He was very much grieved about it, and so much

the more because it was not only for the marchioness that he did this

work, but also for several other ladies, admirers of Carranza. What

a calamity if he should become an agent of the Lutheran heresy! And

yet there were so many fine things in those books, and Carranza was

so illustrious a doctor! The monk of Tordesillas bethought himself

of a means of preventing the evil. At the head of the manuscript he

put a _notice to the reader_, in which he said,--'that in reading the

works of Don Bartholomew, all the propositions which they contain must

be understood in the Catholic sense, and particularly those which

relate to justification, which it seems possible to interpret in an

opposite sense; that in this way there would be no danger of falling

into any error; that he had seen the author practice good works,

fasts, almsgiving and prayers, so that he, the speaker, was sure that

every thing which the doctor had written was in the spirit of the

Catholic religion.'[188] But the religious devotee labored in vain.

Most readers took simply and in the natural sense what they read.

Moreover the _notice to the reader_ was counteracted by more powerful

advice. Domingo de Roxas told both the nuns with whom he was connected,

particularly those of the convent of Bethlehem, and other persons who

showed any leaning to piety, that the evangelical doctrines, and he did

not scruple to say to many _the maxims of Luther_, were approved by a

man so virtuous and so learned as Carranza.[189]

Far from being moved to retract his doctrines by the reproaches which

he incurred on account of them, Carranza, who was of a resolute and

determined character, reasserted them in more and more positive

language. One day when he was at the village of Alcagnices, probably

on a visit to the castle, he felt it incumbent on him to make it

distinctly understood that nothing would induce him to renounce the

faith which inspired him, and that to leave no room for doubt he was

even prepared to sign a legal instrument, bond, or contract, to that

effect. For this reason, and remembering that according to a popular

proverb 'where notary has passed there is no going back,' he exclaimed

in the presence of Domingo de Roxas, Peter de Sotelo, Christopher

Padilla, and others: 'At the time of my death I will have a notary to

attest the renunciation which I make of all my good works and all the

merit of them. I rely on the works of Jesus Christ; and knowing that he

has expiated my sins I look upon them as annulled.'[190]

It is remarkable that Carranza, after declarations so evangelical,

should have been elected, and this in Spain, and against his own

will, to the highest dignity of the church, the primacy. True, Rome

afterwards made up for this gentle treatment by great severity.

This illustrious doctor and distinguished prelate, who had caused

so many evangelical Christians to be imprisoned, himself spent the

last seventeen years of his life in prison. He exalted the pope, his

government, and his ministry, as much as and more than any other

man; but he committed the crime of exalting Jesus Christ still more.

The punishment was only retarded, not averted, by his submission to

Rome. Even at the time when Carranza was still in the enjoyment of

the highest favor Valladolid saw a memorable example of punishment

instantly awarded to any one who should magnify Jesus Christ, without

caring for the pope and his church.

[Sidenote: CRUELTY OF THE INQUISITORS.]

The young San Romano, who had been converted at Bremen, and had been

arrested after making great efforts to induce Charles the Fifth to

countenance the Reformation, arrived in ill health at Valladolid at

the time when the Gospel was working in private circles, and even

in general society, but had not yet been boldly preached there as

at Seville. He had been roughly treated, and compelled to follow in

the emperor's suite as a captive, some say even into Africa; but the

treatment which he had to undergo at the hands of the inquisitors of

Valladolid, to whom he was delivered up, far surpassed in harshness

that of Charles. They confined him in a dark and horrible dungeon; they

sent to him incessantly wicked and ignorant monks, who were instructed

to worry him and to induce him to abandon his faith; they frequently

made a spectacle of him, exposing him to the laughter and contempt of

the populace, and daily loaded him with reproaches and insults, in the

hope of thereby terrifying him, breaking down his spirit, and leading

him to retract his faith. But their attempt was frustrated. They found,

on the contrary, that in some marvellous way which they could not

understand, his strength, his earnestness, and his resolution day by

day increased. He confuted the arguments of the monks, and courageously

avowed the doctrines which were the objects of their anathemas. The

sacrifice of the mass, said the monks, procures _ex opere operato_

the remission of sins. 'Horrible abomination,' said San Romano.

'Auricular confession,' resumed the inquisitors, 'the satisfaction of

purgatory, the invocation of saints'.... But he stopped them and cried

out: 'Blasphemy against God and profanation of the blood of Jesus

Christ!'[191] These monks, of orders gray, brown, or black, who buzzed

about him like wasps, and were incessantly stinging him, were amazed

at such language, and asked him what then he did believe. He replied:

'I maintain and will openly and clearly maintain to my latest breath

that there is no creature who by his own strength, his own works, or

any worthiness of his own can merit the pardon of his sins and obtain

the salvation of his soul. The mercy of God alone, the work of the

Mediator, who by his own blood has cleansed us from all sin, these save

us.' His condemnation was henceforth certain.

San Romano, and with him a great number of criminals, appeared before

a multitude of the people to receive sentence. He was condemned to be

burnt alive as a heretic, the others were absolved. 'Ah!' said one of

his friends,

"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas."

After sentence had been passed, they put upon the head of the martyr

a paper crown, on which were depicted many horrible figures of

demons,[192] and then led him away to the place of execution.

San Romano walked on, surrounded by the mob, who heaped on him insults

'harder to bear than death.' Just beyond the suburbs of the town he

came to a wooden cross. The crowd stopped and the inquisitors wished to

compel him to adore it. 'It is not wood,' he replied, 'which Christians

adore, but God. He is present in my heart and I adore him there with

all reverence. Pass on; go straight to the place of my destination.' At

these words the people uttered loud cries, and loaded him with insults,

considering his refusal to be a crime. 'The cross,' said some of them,

'the cross would not allow a heretic to adore it.' Then fancying that

there was some divinity in the wood, the crowd pressed round it; some

drew their swords, and clove the cross into a thousand pieces.[193]

Most happy did any one think himself who could secure the smallest

fragment, for the wood was to heal them of every disease.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF SAN ROMANO.]

San Romano was accompanied by a numerous escort. He was surrounded by

archers of the Imperial Guard. Some great personages belonging to both

parties had desired to be witnesses of the last moments of this man,

whose convictions were so deep. Amongst them was the English envoy.

San Romano was placed in the midst of a great heap of wood, which was

forthwith set on fire in several places. When he began to feel the

fire he raised his head,[194] looking up to heaven, which was about to

receive him. But the inquisitors imagined that he was calling them and

would yield to their entreaties. 'Draw away the wood,' they said, 'he

wants to retract his doctrine.' The burning pieces were removed, and

San Romano was set as it were at liberty, without having taken any harm

from the fire. Turning then a look of indignation upon the inquisitors,

he said: 'What malice urges you to this? Why envy me my happiness? Why

snatch me from the true glory which awaits me?'[195] The inquisitors

then, confused and irritated, ordered him to be again cast into the

fire, which had by this time risen to great violence, and instantly

consumed him.

The sermon at this _auto-da-fé_ had been preached by Carranza,[196]

but it does not appear that he had convinced all his hearers. Some

of the archers of the Imperial Guard carefully collected the ashes

of the disciple of the Gospel. The English ambassador avowed that he

recognized in him 'a true martyr of Jesus Christ.'[197] In consequence

of this saying he was obliged to absent himself from court for several

months. The archers who had gathered up the ashes were sent to prison.

Meanwhile the inquisitors declared everywhere that San Romano was

damned, that none was permitted to pray for him, and that whosoever

should dare to hope for his salvation would be considered a heretic.

This martyrdom took place about the year 1542.[198]

The times of the Reformation abound in martyrs; and we might well ask

whether primitive Christianity, which came to an end when the reign

of Constantine began, had so great a number of them as the renovated

Christianity of the sixteenth century; especially if we take into

account the different length of the periods. The impulse which led

the martyrs of the Netherlands, of France, England, Hungary, Italy,

Spain, and other lands to give up their lives calmly and even joyfully,

proceeded from the depth of their convictions, the holy and sovereign

voice of conscience, enlightened, purified, and strengthened by the

word of God. In the souls of these lowly heroes there was a secret and

mighty testimony to the truth of the Gospel which vividly manifested

to them its grandeur, impelled them to sacrifice all for its sake, and

gave them courage to obey, although it cost them not only goods and

worldly greatness, but also the good opinion, the affection and esteem

even of those whom they most tenderly loved. Obedience, indeed, was

not always instantaneous. Sometimes there were hindrances, conflicts,

hesitation, and delay. There were also some weak consciences which

were overcome. But wherever the conscience was sound, it acquired in

the midst of difficulties more and more force, and when once its

voice was heard the victory was won. It must be understood that we

do not mean here a conscience which a man has made for himself; that

of which we speak was the highest expression of truth, justice, and

the divine will, and it was found to be the same in all regions. The

souls of these martyrs were exempt from all prejudices, pure as a

cloudless sky. They were conscientious men; and herein we have the

complete explanation of the grand phenomenon presented to us in the

Reformation. Here was a force sufficient to break through stubborn

bonds, to surmount passionate opposition, to brave torture, and to go

to the stake. No concessions were to be made, no agreement with error.

The noble martyrs of the first centuries and of the sixteenth were the

select spirits and the glory of the human race.

[Sidenote: ITS RESULT.]

The death of San Romano was not fruitless. The saying current in the

first centuries was once more verified,--the blood of the martyrs is

the seed of the church. His faith, his renunciation of the world, his

courage at the stake, his rejoicing at the near approach of death,

deeply affected such of the spectators as had a conscience not yet

seared. The evangelicals of Valladolid, who had hardly avowed their

convictions except to their most intimate friends, were emboldened.

They expressed their sympathy with the martyr, and zeal and decision

took the place of timidity and lukewarmness. No church, however, was

formed in Valladolid till some years afterwards.

CHAPTER VII.

QUEEN JOANNA.

(BORN 1479; DIED 1555.)

Among the victims immolated in Spain, in the Netherlands, and

elsewhere, by the fanaticism of Charles the Fifth and his subordinates,

there was one, the most illustrious of all, whose history has been

long hidden by a mysterious veil. This was his mother, Queen Joanna,

the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. The veil has been partly

lifted in our days by the discovery of some documents in the archives

of Simancas.[199] Although the information is not yet complete, and

perhaps may never be so, it is nevertheless possible now to get some

glimpses of the mysterious drama which darkened the life of this

unfortunate princess. Few histories are more astonishing than the

history of this woman, whom we see by some tragic destiny connected

with three executioners--her father, her husband, and her son. These

three men, King Ferdinand, the archduke Philip, and the emperor Charles

the Fifth, whom she never ceased to love, and whom God had given her

for protectors, deprived her of her kingdoms, cast her into prison,

and had the strappado inflicted on her.[200] To complete their infamy,

they circulated a report that she was mad. She displayed remarkable

intelligence, and in this respect she would have taken high rank

among princes, far above her father and her husband, if not above her

son. The latter derived from her, certainly not from his father, his

great abilities. Some celebrated physicians having been summoned by

the _Comuneros_ to inquire whether the alleged madness existed, and

having interrogated the officers and servants who were about her,

Cardinal--afterwards Pope--Adrian, one of her jailers, gave the emperor

an account of the inquiry in these words: 'Almost all the officers and

servants of the queen assert that she has been oppressed and forcibly

detained in this castle for fourteen years, under pretence of madness,

while in fact she has always been as sound in mind and as rational as

at the time of her marriage.'[201]

[Sidenote: JOANNA IMPRISONED.]

The desire to possess themselves of the supreme power incited these

three unworthy princes to deprive Joanna and to keep her in shameful

captivity. It was to her and not to her father Ferdinand, that the

kingdom of Castile belonged after the death of Isabella. It was to

her, and not to her husband Philip, nor afterwards to her son Charles,

that the Spains, Naples, Sicily, and other dominions belonged. She was

deprived of all by these traitorous princes, and received in exchange a

narrow prison.

Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile,

was born in 1479, and was brought up in Spain under the care of her

mother. Although it was not in those days the custom of the court,

as it was in the time of Philip II., to attend the _auto-da-fé_, the

whipping and the torture of heretics, these exploits of fanaticism done

to the honor of Jesus Christ and his holy mother were nevertheless at

this epoch the favorite subject of conversation at that devout court.

The prison, the whip, the rack, and the stake, were the commonplaces of

their intercourse. The compassionate heart, the sound understanding,

and all the good instincts of the young girl rebelled against these

excesses of the Roman faith; and it was soon discovered that there was

in her mind an opposition to the favorite notions of her mother, and

a deep feeling against these punishments. It was a great grief to

Isabella to see her own daughter wantonly ruining herself; for was it

not in her eyes ruin to doubt of the holiness of the proceedings of the

Inquisition? She, therefore, attempted to stifle the first germs of

disobedience. She did not shrink from extreme measures to bring Joanna

to a better mind. The marquis of Denia, chief jailer of the unhappy

prisoner, wrote to Charles the Fifth, on January 26, 1522, as follows:

'If your Majesty would employ torture against her, it would be in many

respects rendering service to God and at the same time doing a good

work towards the queen herself. This course is necessary with persons

of her disposition; and the queen, your grandmother, punished and

treated in this way her daughter the queen, our sovereign lady.'

When Joanna had attained the age of seventeen her father and mother

began to think about a marriage alliance for her; and it is easy to

understand that she was eager to accept the hand of the archduke of

Burgundy, one of the handsomest knights of his age. The prince was to

conduct her to the Netherlands, of which he had been sovereign since

1482, and thus he would withdraw her from the teaching of her mother.

Joanna's readiness was very natural under the circumstances.

Soon after her arrival in the Netherlands it was observed that feelings

to which the cruelty of the Inquisition had given birth in her noble

heart were developing themselves--indignation against the persecutors,

and love for the persecuted. It is known that in these parts were

to be found some of the Vaudois, the Lollards, and the Brethren of

the Common Life, all alike inspired with a true religious spirit.

The fresh information which Joanna now received strengthened her

previous impressions of hostility to Roman superstition. The Catholic

Isabella, alarmed at the reports which reached her, sent to Brussels

the sub-prior of Santa Cruz, Thomas de Matienzo, to see what the facts

were, and to arrest the evil. The princess, who tenderly loved her

mother, was cast down on hearing of her displeasure, and tears started

to her eyes. But her resolution did not give way. The sub-prior took

all possible pains to draw from Joanna some answer to the questions

which Isabella had charged him to ask. He was very coldly received; and

on Assumption Day, when two of the confessors of the princess presented

themselves for the purpose of receiving her confession, she declined

their services in the very presence of her mother's envoy.[202] Her

former tutor, Friar Andrew, who felt much anxiety for the soul of his

pupil, entreated her to dismiss certain Parisian theologians, who

seem to have been more enlightened than the majority of the priests,

but whom Friar Andrew called drunkards. At the same time he begged

the princess to supply their place by taking for her confessor a good

Spanish monk. But all his entreaties were fruitless. Nothing could

overcome the repugnance which she felt towards the Roman religion. On

several occasions she refused its rites, but she did not advance nor

take any active steps. Her strength was passive only.

[Sidenote: BIRTH OF CHARLES THE FIFTH.]

On February 24, 1500, Joanna gave birth to a son, who was to become

the emperor Charles the Fifth. Conspicuous amongst the magnificent

presents offered to the young prince was the gift of the ecclesiastics

of Flanders, who laid before him the New Testament, splendidly bound,

and bearing the inscription in letters of gold--_Search the Scriptures_.

Isabella was deeply distressed to see her daughter thus drifting away

from Spanish orthodoxy. It was not a complete rebellion; Joanna did not

openly profess all the doctrines called in Spain heretical. But the

queen had ordered hundreds of her subjects to be burnt for slighter

opposition than that of the princess. Would Isabella's devotion to

the Virgin go so far as to sacrifice to it her daughter? Even had she

desired it, it would not have been easy; for Joanna, as the wife of a

foreign prince, was emancipated from her mother's control. Besides,

it may well be believed that Isabella would not have committed such a

crime. Still, the question arises, would she allow a heretic to ascend

the throne of Castile? Would she expose the Inquisition, an institution

so dear to her, to the risk of being suppressed by the princess who was

to succeed her? Never. Her whole being revolted against such a thought.

The priestly party rejoiced to see these scruples of the queen, and

endeavored to increase them. King Ferdinand himself, Joanna's father,

but not a tender-hearted father, felt that it was for his own interest

to embitter more and more the feeling of her mother.

As early as 1502 Isabella's plan was formed. She would keep the heretic

Joanna from the throne which belonged to her after her own death.

On the meeting of the Cortes, at Toledo, in 1502, and at Madrid and

Alcala de Henares, in 1503, the queen caused to be laid before them

a project of law by virtue of which the government of Castile should

belong after her death to Ferdinand, in case of Joanna's absence, or

of her unwillingness or inability personally to exercise the rights

which belonged to her. This resolution was voted by the Cortes, and was

inserted by Isabella in her will, in which she set forth the conditions

which she had at first laid down. The pope confirmed the arrangement.

Thus was Joanna to be set aside from succession to the throne which

belonged to her on account of her opposition to the Inquisition and

to other Roman practices. But Isabella took care not to state this,

because she perceived that such an avowal would be dangerous. The

priesthood and the holy office were almost universally detested, and,

therefore, it was necessary to avoid asserting that they were the cause

of the exclusion of Joanna, for this would have rallied to her cause

the majority of the nation. Some pretext must, however, be found. It

should be reported that she was mad. This is nothing but the truth,

thought the priests. Is it possible that any one not mad would reject

Rome and her decrees, and put in their place some other senseless

doctrines?

[Sidenote: TREACHERY OF PHILIP AND FERDINAND.]

In 1504 Isabella died. Ferdinand publicly announced to the people,

assembled in front of the palace of Medina del Campo, that although

the crown belonged to his daughter he should continue to govern during

his lifetime. Joanna and Philip, her husband, were still in the

Netherlands. It appears that Joanna bore with meekness this robbery of

the crown by her father; but it was otherwise with her husband. Philip

energetically protested against this act of spoliation. 'Ferdinand,'

he said, 'has put into circulation a false report of the madness of

his daughter and other absurdities of the like kind, solely with a

view to furnish himself with a pretext for seizing her crown.'[203]

It has generally been stated that it was Philip's mother who had

caused the madness of his widow. But this report, it is evident, was

already in circulation at a time when she had, without contradiction,

the full possession of her reason. We have seen from what source the

report came, and the interest which her father had in causing it to be

believed.

In 1506 Philip, accompanied by Joanna, arrived in Spain for the

purpose of assuming himself the power which his father-in-law had

usurped. The majority of the people soon declared themselves on the

side of Joanna; and Ferdinand, in a fit of anger, was on the point of

encountering his son-in-law with _capa y spada_, intending to plunge

his sword into his bosom. But he observed ere long that a party was

forming, and was becoming more and more numerous, at the head of which

was the constable of Castile, whose object was to set aside both

Philip and Ferdinand, and to place the legitimate queen on the throne.

Ferdinand was perplexed, finding that he had two rivals, his son-in-law

and his daughter. It was clear to him that Joanna, as Infanta and

lawful heiress, would easily win all the hearts of the people, and

that Philip, as a foreigner and usurper, would find it hard to gain

acceptance. He resolved, therefore, to unite with Philip against his

own daughter. He gave him an appointment to meet him at Villafafila,

on June 26 (1506). The king determined to assume an appearance of

amiability. He took with him only a small number of attendants, dressed

himself plainly, mounted an ass, and thus arrived in the presence of

his son-in-law with the air of a gallant country gentleman, an amiable

smile upon his lips, and saying that he came 'with love in his heart

and peace in his hands.' Philip received him attended by a considerable

number of grandees of the Netherlands and of Spain, besides a large

body of men-at-arms. Philip himself, who was surnamed the Handsome, was

in the pride of his youth and strength. Ferdinand having dismounted

from his ass and saluted his son-in-law begged him to follow him alone

into the church. All the members of their suite were forbidden to

accompany the two princes, and guards were stationed at the entrance

to prevent any one from penetrating into the church. There, at the

foot of the altar, these two traitorous men were about to conspire

the ruin, the spoliation, and we might almost say the death of their

innocent victim, daughter of one of them and wife of the other. The

interview began. The sentinels were able occasionally to catch glimpses

of the two princes, and even to hear their voices, but they could not

understand what they said. Ferdinand spoke much and with animation;

Philip made only short answers and at times seemed to be embarrassed.

The father-in-law pointed out to his son-in-law that Joanna was on the

point of being placed on the throne by the people, and that both of

them would thus be deprived of it; that they ought to pledge themselves

to combine all their efforts to exclude her, and that they would assign

as their motive that she was incapacitated for reigning by reason of

'her malady,' which propriety did not permit them to name. It is

evident that the reference was to the alleged madness. Whether Philip,

who lived with Joanna and knew her real state, had also protested

against this false accusation, gave way at once, we can not tell.

However this may be, Ferdinand, who for a long time had not seen his

daughter, succeeded in persuading his son-in-law to adopt this pretext.

It likewise appears that there was already some talk about imprisoning

the queen.[204] While Ferdinand thus sacrificed his daughter, he felt

no scruple about deceiving his son-in-law. An agreement was concluded

between the two conspirators that the government of Castile should

belong to Philip; and in the instrument signed the same day it was

alleged that Joanna refused to accept it herself. Meanwhile the

courtiers were awaiting the two princes; and the guards having reported

the visible animation and eloquence of the father-in-law, it was

expected that he would come away triumphant. Great, therefore, was the

astonishment when it became known that he had yielded every thing to

his son-in-law. Thus the story of the madness of Joanna, first invented

in the interest of Rome, was confirmed by her father, by her husband,

and afterwards by her son Charles the Fifth, in their own interest, and

with a view to despoil her of the crown of Spain, of Naples, Sicily and

her other dominions.

[Sidenote: THE SECRET PROTEST.]

But what is to be thought of Ferdinand's concession? It was a mere

piece of acting. His ass, his modest suite, his plain unarmed arrival,

had been nothing but a comedy, the object of which was to put him in a

position to allege that he had fallen into the hands of his son-in-law,

and that the latter had compelled him to sign the agreement. He

immediately prepared a secret protest, in which he declared that Joanna

was kept prisoner by Philip on false pretences, and that he considered

it his duty to deliver her and to place her on the throne. He then

set out for Naples, delegating as his representative with Philip his

well-beloved Master Louis Ferrer, who enjoyed his entire confidence,

desiring him to look after his interests. He had hardly set out when,

after an illness of three or four days, Philip died. The current

rumor was that he had been poisoned. Some persons declared that they

knew he had received a dose of poison in his food (_bocado_). But the

scandal of a trial was dreaded, and the matter was hushed up. The

guilty Ferdinand remained master of the situation. Joanna had been

placed in confinement by her husband immediately after the interview of

Villafafila. After the death of Philip, Ferrer took possession of her.

Several princes, particularly Henry VII. of England, aspired to the

hand of this widow, heiress of several kingdoms; but Ferdinand hastened

to write in all directions that to 'his great vexation' his daughter

could not possibly think of a second marriage. This gradually gave

wider currency to the fable of her madness.

The queen was then at Burgos, and it was determined to remove her

thence to Tordesillas, where they intended to keep her in confinement.

Philip had died at Burgos, and his body was to be transferred to

Granada, to be there interred in the sepulchre of the kings. This

involved a journey from the north to the middle of Spain, and

Tordesillas lay on the road. The scheme was to have the queen set out

at the same time as the body of her husband. One and the same escort

would thus serve for both. It has been supposed that there might be

financial reasons for this arrangement. In our days, it has been

said, no one would ever think of such economy. But at that time the

want of money was incessantly obtruding itself, and people might be

well pleased to save a thousand _scudos_.[205] This conjecture is

admissible; but there were other reasons. The journey was made slowly.

On two or three occasions the queen was removed from one place to

another by night. But it is of little moment whether the journey from

Burgos to Tordesillas was made by night or by day. In any case it was a

strange spectacle, the grand funeral car, with its dismal but splendid

accompaniments, and after these the carriages of the captive queen,

about whom the most extraordinary reports were already in circulation.

It has been stated that the death of Philip had cost Joanna the loss

of her reason; it has been said that she had so much affection for her

husband that she wished to have his body always near her, as if it

were still living; that she was jealous even of her dead husband, and

would not allow her women to approach his corpse.[206] It was rumored

at the time that the queen, watching for the moment of his return to

life, refused to be separated from the lifeless body; and this very

journey was referred to as an irrefragable proof of her madness. But

these allegations are belied by facts. As the tomb at Granada was not

yet ready, the body of Philip remained for several years in the convent

of St. Clara at Tordesillas, and the queen did not once go to see it

nor did she even express a wish to do so. She used to speak of Philip

as any faithful wife would speak of her deceased husband. Her excessive

tenderness for Philip, who had behaved infamously towards her, her

resolution never to be separated from his corpse--these are fables of

modern history, invented by those who were determined to deprive her of

her rights and to thrust themselves into her place.

[Sidenote: JOANNA AT TORDESILLAS.]

Joanna arrived at Tordesillas under the guardianship of Ferrer, the

man who, it was believed, had poisoned her husband. The palace was a

plain house, situated in a barren country; the climate was scorching

in summer and very severe in winter. Joanna was confined here in a

narrow chamber, without windows, and lighted only by a candle; she

was not allowed to walk, even for a few minutes, in a corridor which

looked out upon the river. She was thus refused a liberty accorded even

to murderers. She was there, without money, attended by two female

keepers, and unable to communicate with the outer world.

The mother of Charles V. continued to show in the prison of Tordesillas

her dislike to the Roman ceremonies. She refused to hear mass; and the

main business of her keepers was to get her to attend it. The cruel

marquis of Denia, count of Lerma, who succeeded Ferrer, endeavored to

compel the queen to practices which she abhorred. 'There is not a day

passes,' he wrote, 'on which we are not taken up with the affair of the

mass.'[207] At length the queen consented to attend mass, at the end of

the corridor, either from fear of the scourge, the pain of which she

knew, or perhaps in order not to sunder herself from the religion of

Spain, of which she constantly hoped to be acknowledged as queen. But

when they brought her the _pax_, the paten which the priest offers to

great persons to kiss, she refused it, and commanded it to be presented

to the Infanta her daughter, whom they had not yet taken away from her.

At Christmas, 1521, matins were being sung in the chapel which had been

fitted up at the end of the corridor. The Infanta alone was present.

Suddenly Joanna appeared, wretchedly attired for a queen. She did not

attend the mass herself, and even wished to prevent her daughter from

attending it. She interrupted the service, ordered with a voice that

re-echoed from the walls that the altar should be taken away and every

thing else that was used in the religious ceremonies, and then laying

hold of her daughter she dragged her away from the place. Nothing could

at this time bend her; she resolutely refused to attend mass or any

other Catholic services. In vain did the marquis of Denia entreat her

to conform to the Roman practices; she would not hear of such a thing.

'In truth,' wrote the marquis to Charles V., 'if your majesty would

apply the torture (_premia_), it would be doing service to God and to

her highness.'[208]

[Sidenote: HER HARSH TREATMENT.]

The mother of Charles V. was plunged into the deepest melancholy by

the treatment to which she was subjected. Her days were a constant

succession of sorrows. Her passage through life was from one suffering

to another. All her desire was to get out of that horrible prison;

and in striving to attain this object she displayed much good sense,

earnestness, and perseverance. She begged the marquis of Denia to

allow her to quit Tordesillas, at least for a time. She wished to go

to Valladolid. She alleged as a reason the bad air she breathed and

the acute sufferings it caused her. Her health required a change of

air, and she must at least undertake a journey. Her deep feeling moved

her barbarous jailer himself. For a moment pity touched that heart of

stone. 'Her language is so touching,' wrote Denia to the emperor, 'that

it becomes difficult for the marchioness and myself to withstand her

appeals. It is impossible for me to let any one go near her, for not a

man in the world could resist her persuasion. Her complaints awaken in

me deep compassion, and her utterances might move stones.'[209] This

is not how Denia would have written to Charles if he had been speaking

of a mad woman. Moreover he requested him to destroy his letters. At

times she remained silent; and we know that the grief which does not

utter itself is only the more fatal to the sufferer. At other times

her distress broke forth. One day (April, 1525) she contrived to find

access to the corridor and filled it with her sighs and moanings,

shedding the while floods of tears. Denia gave orders immediately that

she should be taken into her narrow chamber, so that she might not be

heard.[210] At the same time he wrote to Charles V.: 'I have always

thought that in her highness's state of indisposition, nothing would

do her more good than the rack; and after this that some _good_ and

loyal servant of your majesty should speak to her. It is necessary to

see whether she will not _make any progress_ in the things which your

majesty desires.' By these things he means confession, the mass, and

other Roman rites.

In 1530, despairing of seeing the queen confess, 'I can not believe,'

he wrote, 'that so fortunate a thing can happen. However, I will use

all needful endeavors.'

The officers of Charles V., and the monks who had incessantly labored

for the conversion of Joanna to Romanism, multiplied their efforts

as her death approached. She withstood their pressing entreaties to

receive the rites, the symbols of the papacy, and people heard the

cries which she uttered while they put her to torture. She would have

neither confession nor extreme unction.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF JOANNA.]

Had Joanna become acquainted with the Reformation and the writings

of the Reformers, and with the doctrines which they professed? This

has been doubted; but it seems improbable that she should have been

ignorant of them. Joanna was a Lutheran, says one of the learned

writers who have devoted most attention to this subject.[211] This

statement is perhaps too definite. But the evangelical doctrines were

penetrating everywhere; and they must have reached the prison of

Joanna. It has been asserted that Luther at this time had more numerous

adherents in Spain than in Germany itself.[212] The keepers of the

prison perhaps prevented evangelical works from reaching the queen.

There is, however, a light which no hand of man can intercept. The

theologian de Soto, celebrated for his acquirements, as well as for his

piety, came to her on the morning of her death; and he appears to have

thought her a Christian, but not a Roman Catholic. He said: '_Blessed

be the Lord, her highness told me things which have consoled me_.' Here

is the Christian. He adds: '_Nevertheless, she is not disposed to the

sacrament of the Eucharist_.' Here is the enlightened woman who rejects

the rites of Rome. 'She committed her soul to God,' said the princess

Joanna, granddaughter of the queen, 'and gave thanks to Him that at

length He delivered her from all her sorrows.' Her last words were:

'_Jesus Christ crucified, be with me_.'[213] She breathed her last on

April 12, 1555, between five and six o'clock in the morning.

Thus died the mother of Charles V. at the age of seventy-six years.

She had been at various times kept in prison by her husband, Philip of

Austria; for ten years by her father, Ferdinand the Catholic; and for

thirty-nine years by her son, the emperor Charles V. She is a unique

example of the greatest misfortunes, and her dark destiny surpasses all

the stories of ancient times. The heiress of so many famous kingdoms,

treated as the most wretched of women, was in her last year strictly

confined in her dungeon, and lay in the midst of filth which was never

removed. Covered as she was with tumors, in anguish and solitude, can

we wonder that strange and terrifying images were sometimes produced in

her brain by her isolation, melancholy, and fear? But while she was the

victim of the gloomiest fanaticism ever met with in the world, she was

consoled in the midst of all these horrors, as her latest words prove,

by her God and Father in heaven.

The time has come for posterity to render to her memory the compassion

and the honor which are her due.

BOOK XV.

ENGLAND.

CHAPTER I.

THE THREE PARTIES WHICH DIVIDED ENGLAND.

(1536-1540.)

There were in 1536 three distinct parties in England, the papists, the

evangelicals, and the Anglican Catholics, who were halting between the

two extremes. It was a question which of the three would gain the upper

hand.

The Reformation in England was born of the power of the Word of God,

and did not encounter there such obstacles as were raised against it in

France by a powerful clergy and by princes hostile to evangelical faith

and morality. The English prelates, weakened by various circumstances,

were unable to withstand an energetic attack; and the sovereign was

'the mad Harry,' as Luther had called him.[214] His whims opened the

doors to religious freedom, of which the Reformation was to take

advantage. Thus England, which had remained in a state of rudeness

and ignorance much longer than France, was early enlightened by the

Reformation; and the nation awakened by the Gospel gave birth in the

sixteenth century to such master minds as France, though more highly

civilised, failed to produce so early. Shakespeare was born in 1563,

one year before the death of Calvin. The Reformation placed England a

century ahead of the rest of Europe. The final triumph, however, of

the Reformation was not reached without many conflicts; and the two

adversaries more than once engaged hand to hand, before one overthrew

the other.

[Sidenote: BIRTH OF EDWARD VI.]

About the middle of October, 1537, an event occurred which was of

great importance for the triumph of the Gospel. There was at that

time great rejoicing in the palace of the Tudors and in all England,

for Queen Jane (Seymour), on October 12, presented to Henry VIII. the

son which he had so much desired. Letters written beforehand, in the

name of the Queen, announced it in every place, and congratulations

arrived from all quarters. This birth was called 'the most joyful news

which for many years had been announced in England.' Bishop Latimer

wrote: 'Here is no less joying and rejoicing in these parts for the

birth of our prince, whom we hungered so long, than there was, I trow,

_inter vicinos_ at the birth of St. John Baptist.'[215] (Luke i. 58.)

_Princeps natus ad imperium!_ exclaimed the politicians. 'God grant him

long life and abundant honors!' they wrote from the Continent. Henry

was anxious that people should believe in this future. 'Our prince,'

Cromwell sent word to the ambassadors of England, 'our Lord be thanked,

is in good health, and sucketh like a child of his puissance, which

you my lord William can declare.'[216] It was all the more important

to declare this, because the very contrary was asserted. It was even

reported by some that the child was dead. As Henry feared that some

attempt might be made on his son's life, he forbade that any one should

approach the cradle without an order signed by his own hand. Every

thing brought into the child's room was to be perfumed, and measures

of precaution against poison were taken. The infant was named Edward;

Archbishop Cranmer baptized him, and was one of his godfathers.

The king created him at the age of six Prince of Wales and Duke of

Cornwall. Sir Edward Seymour, his uncle by the mother's side, was

created earl of Hertford. It was alleged that a spell had been thrown

upon the king to prevent his having a male child; and behold, he had

now an heir in spite of the spell. His dynasty was strengthened. Henry

VIII. became more powerful at home, more respected abroad.

This great rejoicing was followed by a great mourning. The queen took

cold; the women in attendance were indiscreet in their management;[217]

the queen was seized with acute pains. She was very ill during the

night of October 23, and died on the following day.

What would Henry do? He had not a tender heart. Far from rejecting

the thought of a fresh marriage, he gave an order, as we find in a

letter written on the very day of the queen's death, requiring his

ambassadors, the bishop of Winchester and Lord William Howard, to seek

another wife for him. Cromwell pointed out to them two _among others_,

Margaret, daughter of Francis I., afterwards duchess of Savoy, and

Mary of Guise, widow of the duke of Longueville, who was the mother

of Mary Stuart. The secretary of state, even before the body of the

deceased queen was quite cold, wrote: 'In the ensearching out of which

matter, his majesty desireth you both to exhibit that circumspection

and diligence that may answer to His Grace's expectation conceived of

you.'[218]

Voilà l'extrême deuil dont son âme est atteinte!

Other agents besides these took part in the search. Hutton,[219] the

envoy in the Netherlands, offered several spouses to the king. He

might make his choice. There was a daughter of the Sire de Brederode,

fourteen years of age; the widow of Count Egmont, who was forty, but

did not look so old; the princess of Cleves, but of her there was

not much to be said in praise either of her mind or her beauty; the

young widow of the duke of Milan, Christina of Denmark, niece of the

emperor, who was said to be very beautiful, of agreeable conversation

and dignified in person. The king resolved on this last alliance, which

would reconcile him with the emperor. For some time nothing was thought

of but the making of marriages in this direction. The princess Mary was

to marry Louis of Portugal, Elizabeth a son of the king of the Romans,

and Edward was to be betrothed to a daughter of the emperor.

[Sidenote: SWITZERLAND AND ENGLAND.]

The birth of the young prince had, however, another kind of

significance. The hopes of the partisans of the Catholic Mary

disappeared, and the friends of the Reformation rejoiced at the thought

that the young prince was godson of the archbishop. Many circumstances

contributed to their encouragement. They witnessed the formation of

unlooked-for ties between the evangelicals of England and those of

Switzerland; and the pure Gospel as professed by the latter began to

exercise a real influence over England. Edward, during his very short

reign, was to fulfil the best hopes to which his birth had given rise,

and the triumph to which his reign seemed destined was already visibly

in preparation.

Simon Grynaeus, the friend of Erasmus and Melanchthon, and professor

at the university of Basel had, as early as 1531, held intercourse

with Henry VIII. and Cranmer.[220] Afterwards Cranmer and Bullinger,

successor of Zwinglius at Zurich, had also become acquainted with each

other; and, as early as 1536, some young Englishmen of good family

had betaken themselves to Zurich, that they might drink at the full

fountain of Christian knowledge and life which sprang forth there.

Some of them lived in the house of Pellican, others with Bullinger

himself. These young men were John Butler, who had a rich patrimony

in England--a sagacious man and a Christian who persevered in prayer;

Nicholas Partridge, from Kent, a man of active and devoted character;

Bartholomew Traheron, who had already (1527 and 1528) declared at

Oxford for the Reformation, and had been persecuted by Doctor London;

Nicholas Eliot, who had studied law in England, and who afterwards held

some government office; and others besides.[221] Bullinger was strongly

attached to these young Englishmen. He directed their studies and, in

addition to his public teaching, he explained to them in his own house

the prophet Isaiah.

[Sidenote: ENGLISH LETTER TO CALVIN.]

There was much talk at Zurich at this time about a young French

theologian, Calvin by name, who was settled at Geneva, and had

published a profound and eloquent exposition of Christian doctrines.

The young Englishmen eagerly longed to make his acquaintance. Butler,

Partridge, Eliot, and Traheron set out for Geneva in November, 1537,

bearing letters of introduction from Bullinger to the reformer. The

latter received them in the most kindly manner. It was more than

common courtesy, they wrote to Bullinger.[222] They were delighted

with his appearance and with his conversation, at once so simple and

so fruitful. They felt a charm which drew them to his presence again

and again. The master taught well, and the disciples listened well.

Calvin was at the time in great trouble. Caroli was causing him much

annoyance, and persecution had just broken out at Nismes.[223] The

four Englishmen, being called elsewhere, took their departure deeply

saddened by the painful separation. A letter written by them shortly

afterwards is the first communication addressed by England to the

reformer of Geneva. It runs as follows:--'We wish you the true joy in

Christ. May as much happiness be appointed to us from henceforth as our

going away from you has occasioned us sorrow! For although our absence,

as we hope, will not be of very long continuance, yet we can not but

grieve at being deprived even for a few hours of so much suavity of

disposition and delightful conversation. And this also distresses us in

no small measure, lest there should be any persons who may regard us as

resembling flies, which swarm everywhere in the summer, but disappear

on the approach of winter. You may be assured that, if we had been able

to assist you in any way, no pleasure should have called us away from

you, nor should any peril have withdrawn us. This distress, indeed,

which the disordered tempers of certain individuals have brought upon

you, is far beyond our power to alleviate. But you have one, Christ

Jesus, who can easily dispel by the beams of his consolation whatever

cloud may arise upon your mind. He will restore to you a joyful

tranquillity; he will scatter and put to flight your enemies; he will

make you gloriously to triumph over your conquered adversaries; and we

will entreat him, as earnestly as we can, to do this as speedily as

possible. We have written these few lines at present, most amiable and

learned Master Calvin, that you may receive a memorial of our regard

towards you. Salute in our names that individual of a truly heroic

spirit and singular learning and godliness, Master Farel. Salute, too,

our sincere friends Master Olivetan and your brother Fontaine. Our

countrymen send abundant salutations. Farewell, very dear friend.'[224]

England at this time did justice to the Genevese reformer.

Much admiration was likewise felt for Bullinger. We confess ourselves

to be entirely yours, wrote to him the four Englishmen, 'as long as

we can be our own.' The works of the Zurich doctor were much read in

England, and diffused there the spirit of the Gospel. Nicolas Eliot

wrote to him:--'And how great weight all persons attribute to your

commentaries, how greedily they embrace and admire them (to pass over

numberless other arguments), the booksellers are most ample witnesses

whom by the sale of your writings alone, from being more destitute than

Irus and Codrus, you see suddenly become as rich as Crœsus.[225] May

God, therefore, give you the disposition to publish all your writings

as speedily as possible, whereby you will not only fill the coffers

of the booksellers, but will gain over very many souls to Christ, and

adorn his church with most precious jewels.'[226]

[Sidenote: WORKS OF BULLINGER.]

At the news that the mighty king of England had separated from the

pope, the Swiss theologians were filled with hope, and they vied with

each other in speeding his progress towards the truth. Bullinger

composed two works in Latin which he dedicated to Henry VIII.; the

first of them on _The Authority, the Certitude, the Stability and the

Absolute Perfection of Holy Scripture_; the second on _The Institution

and the Function of Bishops_. He forwarded copies of these works to

Partridge and Eliot for presentation to the king, to Cranmer, and to

Cromwell. The two young Englishmen went first to the archbishop and

delivered to him the volumes intended for the king and for himself. The

archbishop consented to present the book to the prince, but not till

after he had read it himself, and on condition that Eliot and Partridge

should be present, that they might answer any questions asked by the

king. Then going to Cromwell, they gave him the copy intended for him;

and the viceregent, more prompt than the archbishop, showed it the

same day to Henry VIII., to whom Cranmer then hastened to present his

own copy. The king expressed a wish that the work should be translated

into English. 'Your books are wonderfully well received,' wrote Eliot

to Bullinger, 'not only by our king, but equally so by the lord

Cromwell, who is keeper of the king's privy seal and vicar-general of

the church of England.'[227]

Other Continental divines who held the same views as the Swiss likewise

dedicated some theological writings both to the king and to Cranmer.

Capito, who was at the time at Strasburg, dedicated to Henry VIII.

a book in which he treated, among other subjects, of the mass (_de

missa_, &c.). The king, as usual, handed it to two persons belonging

to the two opposing parties, in order to get their opinions. He then

examined their verdict, and announced his own. Cranmer wrote to Capito

that the king 'could by no means digest' his piece on the mass,[228]

although at the same time he approved some of the other pieces. Bucer,

a colleague of Capito, having written a commentary on the Epistle to

the Romans, dedicated it to Cranmer, and wrote to him as follows:--'It

is not enough to have shaken off the yoke of the pope, and to be

unwilling to take upon us the yoke of Christ; but if God be for us who

can be against us? and Christianity is a warfare.'[229]

While the Swiss and the Strasburgers were seeking to enlighten England,

the Roman party on the Continent and the Catholic party in England

itself were striving to keep her in darkness. The pope, in sorrow and

in anger, saw England lost to Rome. Nevertheless the Catholic rising

in the northern counties allowed him still to cherish hope. The king

of France and the emperor, both near neighbors of England, could if

necessary strike with the sword. The pope must therefore stir up to

action not only the English Catholics, but also the courts of Paris

and Brussels. Whom should he select for the mission? Reginald Pole, an

Englishman, a zealous Roman Catholic, and a kinsman of Henry VIII.,

seemed to be the man made for the occasion. It was he who had lately

written these words--'There was never a greater matter entreated, of

more importance to the wealth of the realm and the whole church than

this [the re-establishment of papal authority]. And this same that you

go about to take away, the authority of one head in the church, was a

more principal and groundless cause of the loss of the Orient, to be in

infidels' hands, and all true religion degenerate, than ever was the

Turk's sword, as most wisest men have judged. For if they had agreed

all with the Occidental Church, they had never come to that misery;

and like misery if God have not mercy on us to return to the church,

is most to be feared in our realm.... Your sweet liberty you have got,

since you were delivered from the obedience papal, speaketh for itself.

Whereof the rest of the realm hath such part that you be without envy

of other countries, that no nation wisheth the same to have such

liberty granted them.'[230] This last assertion was doubtful.

Pole was at this time at Padua, where he had studied, and where he was

resident by permission of the king. He avoided going to Rome lest he

should offend Henry. But he received one day an invitation from Paul

III., who summoned him to the Vatican to take part in a consultation

about the general council. To comply with this summons would be to pass

the Rubicon; it would make Henry VIII. his irreconcilable enemy, and

would expose to great danger not only himself but all his family. Pole

therefore hesitated. The advice, however, of the pious Contarini, the

command of the pope, and his own enthusiasm for the cause, brought him

to a decision. On his arrival at Rome he gave himself up entirely; and

when Christmas was drawing near, on December 20, 1536, the pope created

him cardinal, together with del Monte, afterwards Julius III.; Caraffa,

afterwards Paul IV.; Sadoleto, Borgia, Cajetan, and four others.[231]

These proceedings were very seriously criticised in England. For the

vain glory of a red hat,[232] said Tonstall and Stokesley, Pole is,

in fact, an instrument of the pope to set forth his malice, to depose

the king from his kingdom, and to stir his subjects against him. There

was, however, something more in his case than a cardinal's hat; there

was, we must acknowledge, a faith doubtless fanatical but sincere in

the papacy. Not long afterwards the pope nominated him the new cardinal

legate beyond the Alps; the object of this measure being _per dar

fermento_,[233] to excite men's minds. He was to induce the king of

France and the emperor to enter into the views of the Roman court, to

inflame the Catholics of England, and, if he should be unable to go

there himself, to take up his residence in the Netherlands, and thence

conspire for the ruin of Protestantism in England.

[Sidenote: POLE DECLARED A REBEL.]

At the beginning of Lent, 1537, Pole, attended by a numerous suite, set

out from Rome. The pope, who was not thoroughly sure of his new legate,

had appointed as his adviser the bishop of Verona, who was to make up

for any deficiency of experience on the part of the legate, and to put

him on his guard against pride. Henry VIII., on learning the nature of

his young cousin's mission, was exceedingly angry. He declared Pole a

rebel, set a price on his head, and promised fifty thousand crowns to

any one who should kill him. Cromwell, following his master's example,

exclaimed, 'I will make him eat his own heart.'[234] This was only a

figure of speech, but it was rather a strong one. No sooner had Henry

VIII. heard of the arrival of Pole in France than he demanded that

Francis I. should deliver him up, as a subject in rebellion against his

king. Pole had not been long at Paris before he heard of this demand.

It aroused in his heart more pride than fear. It revealed to him his

own importance; and turning to his attendants he said, 'This news makes

me glad; I know now that I am a cardinal.' Francis I. did not concede

the demand of the angry Tudor; but he did consider the mission of Pole

as one of those attacks on the power of kings in which the papacy from

time to time indulged. When Pole, therefore, made his appearance at

the palace he was refused admission. While still only at the door, and

even before he had had time to knock, he himself tells us, he was sent

away.[235] 'I am ready to weep,' he added, 'to find that a king does

not receive a legate of Rome.' Francis I. having sent him an order to

leave France, he fled to Cambray, which at that time formed part of the

Netherlands.

[Sidenote: FAILURE OF HIS MISSION.]

No sooner was he there than, under great excitement about what had

occurred to him at Paris, he wrote to Cromwell, complaining bitterly

that Henry VIII., in order to get him into his power, did not scruple

to violate both God's law and man's, and even 'to disturb all commerce

between country and country.' 'I was ashamed to hear that ... a prince

of honor should desire of another prince of like honor, Betray thine

own ambassador, betray the legate, and give him into my ambassador's

hands to be brought to me.'[236] The like, he says, was never heard

of in Christendom. Pole had more hope of the emperor than of Francis

I.; but he was soon undeceived. He was not permitted to go out of

the town; and a courier entrusted with his despatches was arrested

by the Imperialists at Valenciennes and sent back to him. He now

resolved on taking a step towards opening communication with the

English government; and as he did not venture to present himself to

the ambassadors of Henry VIII. in France, he sent to them the bishop

of Verona. But this prelate, likewise, was not received, and he was

only allowed to speak to one of the secretaries. He endeavored to

convince him of the perfect innocence of Pole and of his mission. 'The

cardinal-legate,' he said, 'is solely charged by the pope to treat of

the safety of Christendom.' This was true in the sense intended by

Rome; but it is well known what this safety, in her view, required.

Fresh movements in the north of England tended to increase the anger of

Henry VIII. It was not enough that Pole had been driven from France.

The king now wrote himself to Hutton, his envoy at Brussels--'You shall

deliver unto the regent our letters for the stay of his entry into the

emperor's dominions; ... you shall press them ... neither to admit him

to her presence, nor to suffer unto him to have any other entertainment

than beseemeth the traitor and rebel of their friend and ally....

You shall in any wise cause good secret and substantial espial to be

made upon him from place to place where he shall be.'[237] Pole, on

his part, spoke as a Roman legate. He summoned the queen to prove her

submission to the apostolic see, and to grant him an audience; and he

made use of serious menaces. 'If traitors, conspirators, rebels, and

other offenders,' said the English ambassador, 'might under the shadow

of legacie have sure access into all places, and thereby to trouble

and espy all things, that were overmuch dangerous.'[238] Here was no

question of rebellion, Pole sent word to the regent by the bishop of

Verona, but of the Reformation; and he was sent to refute the errors

which it was spreading in England. Her opinion was that he should

return, 'for that she had no commission of the emperor to intermeddle

in any point of his legacy.'[239]

Hereupon Pole went from Cambray to Liége; but in consequence of

the advice of the bishop of Liége, he only ventured to go there in

disguise.[240] He was received into the bishop's palace, but his stay

there was 'not without great fear.'[241] He set out again on August 22,

and went to Rome. Never had any mission of a Roman pontiff so entirely

failed. The ambitious projects of the pope against the Reformation in

England had proved abortive. But one of the secrets of Roman policy is

to put a good face on a bad case. The less successful Pole had been the

more necessary it was to assume an air of satisfaction with him and his

embassy. In any case, was it not a victory for him to have returned

safe and sound after having to do with Francis I., Henry VIII., and

Charles V.? It was November when he reached Rome; and he was received

as generals used to be received by the ancient Romans after great

victories. They carried him, so to speak, on their arms; every one

heaped upon him demonstrations of respect and joy; and his secretary,

on the last day of the year, 1537, wrote to the Catholics of England,

to describe to them _the great triumph that was made at Rome for the

safe arrival of his master_.[242] Rome may beat or be beaten, she

always triumphs.

This mission of Reginald Pole had fatal consequences. In the following

year, his brothers, Lord Montague, the marquis of Exeter, and Sir

Edward Nevil, were arrested and committed to the Tower. Some time

afterwards his mother, Margaret, countess of Salisbury, the last of the

Plantagenets, a woman of remarkable spirit, was likewise arrested. They

were charged with aiming at the deposition of Henry and at placing

Reginald on the throne. 'I do perceive,' it was said, 'it should be for

my Lord Montague's brother, which is beyond the sea with the bishop of

Rome, and is an arrant traitor to the king's highness.'[243] They were

condemned and executed in January, 1539. The countess was not executed

till a later time.

[Sidenote: GERMAN ENVOYS IN ENGLAND.]

Paul III. had been mistaken in selecting the cousin of the king to stir

up Catholic Europe against him. But some other legate might have a

chance of success. Henry felt the necessity of securing allies upon the

Continent. Cranmer promptly availed himself of this feeling to persuade

Henry to unite with the Protestants of Germany. The elector of Saxony,

the landgrave of Hesse, and the other Protestant princes, finding

that the king had resolutely broken with the pope, had suppressed the

monasteries and begun other reforms, consented to send a deputation.

On May 12, Francis Burkhardt, vice-chancellor of Saxony, George von

Boyneburg, doctor of law, and Frederick Myconius, superintendent of the

church of Gotha--a diplomatist, a jurisconsult, and a theologian--set

out for London. The princes wished to be worthily represented, and the

envoys were to live in magnificent style and keep a liberal table.[244]

The king received them with much good-will. He thanked them that,

laying aside their own affairs, they had undertaken so laborious a

journey; and he especially spoke of Melanchthon in the most loving

terms.[245] But the delegates, whilst they were so honorably treated

by their own princes and by the king of England, were much less so by

inferior agents. They were hardly settled in the house assigned to

them than they were attacked by the inhabitants, 'a multitude of rats

daily and nightly running in their chambers.'[246] In addition to this

annoyance, the kitchen was adjacent to the parlor, in which they were

to dine, so that the house was full of smells, and all who came in were

offended.

But certain bishops were to give them more trouble than the rats.

Cranmer received them as friends and brethren, and endeavored to take

advantage of their presence to promote the triumph of the Gospel in

England; but Tonstall, Stokesley, and others left no stone unturned

to render their mission abortive. The discussion took place in the

archbishop's palace at Lambeth, and they did their best to protract it,

obstinately defending the doctrines and the customs of the Middle Ages.

They were willing, indeed, to separate from Rome; but this was in order

to unite with the Greek church, not with the evangelicals. Each of the

two conflicting parties endeavored to gain over to itself those English

doctors who were still wavering. One day, Richard Sampson, bishop of

Chichester, who usually went with the Scholastic party, having come to

Lambeth at an early hour, Cranmer took him aside and so forcibly urged

on him the necessity of abandoning tradition that the bishop, a weak

man, was convinced. But Stokesley, who had doubtless noticed something

in the course of the discussion, in his turn took Sampson aside into

the gallery, just when the meeting was breaking up, and spoke to him

very earnestly in behalf of the practices of the church. These customs

are essential, said Stokesley, for they are found in the Greek church.

The poor bishop of Chichester, driven in one direction by the bishop

of London and in the opposite by the archbishop of Canterbury, was

much embarrassed, and did not know which way to turn. His decision

was for the last speaker. The semi-Roman doctors at this period, who

sacrificed to the king the Roman rite, felt it incumbent upon them to

cross all Europe for the purpose of finding in the Turkish empire the

Greek rite, which was for them the Gospel. England must be dressed in a

Grecian garb. But Cranmer would not hear of it; and he presented to his

countrymen the wedding garment of which the Saviour speaks.[247]

[Sidenote: PROLONGED DISCUSSIONS.]

The summer was now drawing to an end. The German delegates had been in

London three or four months without having made any progress. Wearied

with fruitless discussions, they began to think of their departure.

But before setting out, about the middle of August, they forwarded

to the king a document in which they argued from Holy Scripture,

from the testimony of the most ancient of the Fathers, and from the

practice of the primitive church, against the withdrawal of the cup,

private masses, and the celibacy of priests, three errors which they

looked upon as having essentially contributed to the deformation of

Christendom. When Cranmer heard of their intention to leave England, he

was much affected. Their departure dissipated all his hopes. Must he

then renounce the hope of seeing the Word of God prevail in England as

it was prevailing in evangelical Germany? He summoned them to Lambeth,

and entreated them earnestly and with much kindliness[248] for the

king's sake to remain. They replied 'that at the king's request they

would be very well content to tarry during his pleasure, not only a

month or two, but a year or two, if they were at their own liberty.

But forasmuch they had been so long from their princes, and had not

all this season any letters from them, it was not to be doubted but

that they were daily looked for at home, and therefore they durst not

tarry.' However, after renewed entreaties, they said, 'We will consult

together.' They discussed with one another the question whether they

ought to leave England just at the time when she was perhaps on the

point of siding with the truth. Shall we refuse to sacrifice our

private convenience to interests so great? They adopted the least

convenient but most useful course. We will tarry, they said, for a

month, 'upon hope that their tarrying should grow into some good

success concerning the points of their commission,' and 'trusting that

the king's majesty would write unto their princes for their excuse in

thus long tarrying.' The evangelicals of Germany believed it to be

their duty to tolerate certain secondary differences, but frankly to

renounce those errors and abuses which were contrary to the essential

doctrines of the Gospel, and to unite in the great truths of the faith.

This was precisely what the Catholic party and the king himself had no

intention of doing. When Cranmer urged the bishops to apply themselves

to the task of answering the Germans, they replied 'that the king's

grace hath taken upon himself to answer the said orators in that

behalf ... and therefore they will not meddle with the abuses lest they

should write therein contrary to that the king shall write.'[249] It

was, indeed, neither pleasant nor safe to contradict Henry VIII. But in

this case the king's opinion was only a convenient veil, behind which

the bishops sought to conceal their ill-will and their evil doctrines.

Their reply was nothing but an evasion. The book was written, not by

the king, but by one of themselves, Tonstall, bishop of Durham.[250]

He ran no risk of contradicting himself. In spite of this ill-will,

the Germans remained not only one month but two. Their conduct, like

that of Cranmer, was upright, devoted, noble, and Christian; while the

bishops of London and Durham and their friends, clever men no doubt,

were souls of a lower cast, who strove to escape by chicanery from

the free discussion proposed to them, and passed off their knavery as

prudence.

[Sidenote: DEPARTURE OF THE GERMANS.]

The German doctors had now nothing more to do. They had offered the

hand and it had been rejected. The vessel which was to convey them was

waiting. They were exhausted with fatigue; and one of them, Myconius,

whom the English climate appeared not to suit, was very ill. They

set out at the beginning of October, and gave an account of their

mission to their sovereigns and to Melanchthon. The latter thought

that, considering the affection which the king displayed towards him,

he might, if he intervened at this time, do something to incline the

balance the right way. He therefore wrote to Henry VIII. a remarkable

letter, in which, after expressing his warm gratitude for the king's

good-will, he added:--'I commend to you, Sire, the cause of the

Christian religion. Your majesty knows that the principal duty of

sovereigns is to protect and propagate the heavenly doctrine,[251]

and for this reason God gives them the same name as his own, saying

to them, _Ye are gods_ (Ps. lxxxii. 6). My earnest desire is to see a

true agreement, so far as regards the doctrine of piety, established

between all the churches which condemn Roman tyranny, an agreement

which should cause the glory of God to shine forth, should induce the

other nations to unite with us and maintain peace in the churches.'

Melanchthon was right as to the last point; but was he right as to the

office he assigned to kings? In his view it was a heroic action to

take up arms for the church.[252] But what church was it necessary to

protect and extend sword in hand? Catholic princes, assuredly, drew

the sword against the Protestants rather than the Protestants against

the Catholics. The most heroic kings, by this rule, would be Philip

II. and Louis XIV. Melanchthon's principle leads by a straight road

to the Inquisition. To express our whole thought on the matter,--what

descendant of the Huguenots could possibly acknowledge as true, as

divine, a principle by virtue of which his forefathers, men of whom

the world was not worthy, were stripped of every thing, afflicted,

tormented, scattered in the deserts, mountains, and caves of the earth,

cast into prison, tortured, banished, and put to death? Conscience,

which is the voice of God, is higher than all the voices of men.