THE REFORMATION.
Two Aspects of Catholicism.――Jubilee at Rome.――Infamy of Philip
of France.――Banditti Bishops.――Sale of Indulgences.――Tetzel the
Peddler.――The Rise of Protestantism.――Luther and the Diet at
Worms.――Intolerance of Charles V.――Civil War and its Reverses.
――Perfidy of Charles V.――Coalition against the Protestants.
――Abdication of Charles V.――His Death.
THE Papal Church presents two aspects quite different from each other.
The one is that of a spiritual and practical religion, in which that
branch of the Church of Christ has furnished some of the most lovely
exhibitions of piety the world has ever seen. Fénelon and Pascal were
among the noblest of the disciples of the Redeemer. Through all the
darkest ages of the Church there have been a multitude, which no man
can number, who have followed their Saviour, even to the cross, in his
lowly life of benevolence, and his self-sacrifice for others.
The Catholic Church was, for centuries, almost the only organized
representative of the religion of Jesus. It contained within its bosom
all the piety there was on earth. These humble Christians, sometimes
buried and almost smothered beneath the ceremonies which the Church
imposed upon them, manifested through life the true spirit of Jesus,
and passed away, in death, triumphant to their crowns.
But there is another aspect in which the Papal Church presents itself
on the pages of history. It is that of a political organization,
grasped by ambitions men, and wielded by them as an instrument of
personal aggrandizement.
The Bishop of Rome, claiming to stand in God’s stead, with power
to admit to heaven or to consign to hell, became, in many cases,
a conspirator with kings and princes to inthrall mankind. As an
illustration of this infamous perversion of Christianity, it may
be mentioned, that, early in the fourteenth century, Pope Boniface
designed to get up a magnificent celebration in honor of the popedom.
He appointed a jubilee at Rome. As an inducement to lead an
innumerable band to cluster in homage around him, he promised that all
who came to Rome to attend the jubilee should not only have their past
sins pardoned, but should also receive an indulgence, or, as it was
popularly understood, permission to commit any sins they wished for a
limited time to come. We easily believe that which we wish to believe.
The proud and dissolute barons of Europe were glad to accept a doctrine
by which they could so easily escape the penalty of their enormous
sins. They were also only too eager to support the pope in all his
pretensions, receiving in return his powerful, almost supernatural
influence in holding the fanatic peasantry in subjection to their will.
At this magnificent jubilee the pope led the procession, dressed in
imperial robes. Two swords, the emblems of temporal and of spiritual
power, and the globe, the emblem of universal sovereignty, were carried
before him. A herald went in advance, crying,――
“Peter, behold thy successor! Christ, behold thy vicar upon earth!”
Such crimes not unfrequently in this life meet with conspicuous
punishment. Pope Boniface became insane, broke from his keepers, and
foaming at the mouth, and gnashing his teeth, died uttering the most
horrid blasphemies.
After the death of Boniface, Philip, King of France, surnamed the
Handsome, who was then the most powerful monarch in Christendom,
bribed a majority of the cardinals to elect one of his creatures to the
pontifical chair. There was a vile, unscrupulous courtier in the palace,
who had been promoted to the high ecclesiastical position of Archbishop
of Bordeaux. He made as little pretence to piety as did the hounds he
followed in the chase. The king summoned the archbishop, whose name was
Bernard de Goth, to meet him at one of his hunting-lodges in the forest.
There he said to him,――
“Archbishop, I have power to make you pope if I choose. If you will
promise me six favors which I shall ask of you as pope, I will confer
upon you that dignity.”
The astonished and overjoyed archbishop threw himself at the king’s
feet, saying, “My lord, it is for you to command, for me to obey. I
shall be always ready to do your will.”
“The six special favors I have to ask are these: first, that you will
reconcile me entirely with the Church, that I may be pardoned for my
arrest of Pope Boniface VIII.; second, that you will give me and all
my supporters the communion; third, that you will grant me tithes of
the clergy for five years, to meet the expenses of the war in Flanders;
fourth, that you will destroy the memory of Boniface VIII.; fifth, that
you will confer the dignity of cardinal upon Messrs. Jacobo, Piero, and
others of my friends. The sixth favor I reserve for the proper time and
place: it is a great and secret thing.”
The archbishop, having taken the most solemn oaths to grant these
requests, ascended, by the intrigues of the king, the papal throne,
with the title of Clement V. He became as obsequiously the servant of
the King of France as any slave is submissive to his master. The king
and his pope joined hands to oppress and rob the world.
“His Holiness Clement V. was, therefore, the thrall and servant of
Philip le Bel. No office was too lowly or sacrifice too large for
the grateful pontiff: he became, in fact, a citizen of France, and a
subject of the crown. He delivered over the clergy to the relentless
hands of the king. He gave him tithes of all their livings. As the
Count of Flanders owed money to Philip which he had no means of paying,
the generosity of the pope came to the rescue; and he gave tithes of
the Flemish clergy to the bankrupt count, in order to enable him to
pay his debt to the exacting monarch. The pope did not reduce his
own demands in consideration of the subsidies given to those powers:
he completed, indeed, the ruin the royal tax-gatherers began; for
he travelled in more than imperial state from end to end of France,
and ate bishop and abbot and prior and prebendary out of house and
home.”[203]
Christendom, then miserably poor, became impoverished by their
exactions. These imperial robbers turned to the Jews, and robbed them
mercilessly. The unarmed peasantry could present no resistance to the
steel-clad warriors mounted on powerful chargers; which steeds were
also caparisoned in coats of mail. These knights, in their impenetrable
armor, could plunge upon almost any multitude of the peasantry, and
disperse them like sheep when wolves rush into the fold. But it is not
always that the battle is to the strong. We can often see in history
the indications of God’s retributive providence. There were seasons
when these proud knights fell before their despised victims.
In the beginning of the fourteenth century an army of these mailed
warriors entered Flanders, hacking and hewing in all directions. The
manufacturing citizens at the town of Courtrai secretly dug a blind
ditch in the path of the invaders. The impetuous knights, breathing
through their cross-barred visors, and goggling through the holes left
for their eyes, spurred their horses forward in solid mass, and fell
headlong, horse and rider, with their heavy and inextricable weight
of armor, into the trap set for them. It was a horrible massacre,――an
avalanche of overthrown, struggling horses and human bodies cased in
steel.
The momentum of the vast mass was such, that their onward movement
could not be checked. The pressure behind forced forward those in
the advance, till thousands were plunged into the abyss, writhing,
struggling, choking, like vipers in a vase. The infuriated peasants and
mechanics on the other side of the ditch, with clubs and every other
available weapon, beat out the brains of those who endeavored to escape
from the maelstrom of death. This enormous slaughter nearly depopulated
France of its lords and princes.
The corruptions which had crept into the secularized Church more
and more appalled the more devout both of the clergy and of the laity.
True men began to speak loudly against these corruptions, and continued
so to speak, notwithstanding all the denunciations of temporal and
ecclesiastical power.
The leading cardinals, archbishops, and bishops, appointed by infamous
popes and kings, were almost universally irreligious and corrupt men.
There were some noble exceptions; but sincere piety was more generally
found only with the more humble of the clergy, and with the common
people.
In order to raise money, Pope Leo X., early in the sixteenth century,
devised the plan of selling indulgences. A regular tariff of prices
was fixed for the pardon of all crimes, from murder downwards. If a man
wished to commit any outrage, or to indulge in any forbidden wickedness,
he could do so at a stipulated price, and receive from the pope a full
pardon. These permits, or indulgences as they were called, were peddled
all over Europe, and an immense revenue was gathered from them. There
was one man, by the name of John Tetzel, a brazen-faced miscreant,
who made himself very notorious as a peddler of these indulgences.
He traversed Northern France and Germany, engaged in this nefarious
traffic.
In a cart gorgeously embellished, and accompanied by a musical band, he
would approach some populous town, and tarry somewhere in the suburbs
until his emissaries had entered the place and informed the inhabitants
of the signal honor which awaited them from the advent of a nuncio from
the pope with pardons for sin at his disposal.
All the church-bells would be set ringing for joy: the whole population
would be thrown into the greatest excitement to receive the brilliant
pageant. At the annotated hour the cavalcade entered, bedizened with
all the gorgeous finery of a modern menagerie display. Tetzel carried,
in the capacious box of his peddler’s cart, the parchment certificates
of pardon for every imaginary sin. Murder, adultery, theft, sacrilege,
blasphemy,――every crime had its specified price.
One could purchase pardon or absolution for any crime which had
already been committed, or he could purchase permission to commit the
crime if it were one he wished to perpetrate. With music and banners
the procession advanced to the public square. Here Tetzel, mounted upon
his box, with all the volubility of a modern mountebank palmed off his
wares upon the eager crowd.
“My brothers,” said this prince of impostors, “God has sent me to
you with his last and greatest gift. The Church is in need of money.
I am empowered by the pope, God’s vicegerent, to absolve you from any
and every crime you may have committed, no matter what it may be. The
moment the money tinkles in the bottom of the box, your soul shall be
as pure as that of the babe unborn.
“I can also grant you indulgence; so that any sins you may commit
hereafter shall all be blotted out. More than this: if you have
any friends now in purgatory suffering in those awful flames, I am
empowered, in consideration of the money you grant the Church in this
its hour of need, to cause that soul to be immediately released from
purgatory, and to be borne on angel-wings to heaven.”
Enlightened as the masses of the people are at the present day, we
can hardly imagine the effect these representations produced upon an
ignorant and superstitious people who had ever been trained to the
belief that the pope was equal in power to God. These peddlings of
indulgences for sin were carried on all over Europe, and enormous sums
of money were thus raised. The certificates, which were issued like
government-bonds, ran in this form:――
“I, by the authority of Jesus Christ, his blessed apostles Peter
and Paul, and the most holy pope, absolve thee from all thy sins,
transgressions, and excesses, how enormous soever they may be. I
remit to thee all punishment which thou dost deserve in purgatory on
their account, and restore thee to the innocence and purity thou didst
possess at baptism; so that, when thou diest, the gates of punishment
shall be shut against thee, and the gates of paradise shall be thrown
wide open.”
It was this sale of indulgences which opened the eyes of Luther and
other devout men to the corruptions which had crept into the Church. We
have not space here to enter into the details of the great Protestant
Reformation which ensued: the reader can find in the pages of D’Aubigné,
which are easily accessible, a graphic narrative of its incidents.
Notwithstanding the ferocious hostility of popes and kings, the
Reformation spread rapidly among the masses of the people; and several
sovereigns and princes of high rank, disgusted with the arrogance of
the popes, espoused its principles. The Emperor Maximilian wrote to one
of the leading men in the Saxon court in reference to Luther,――
“All the popes I have had any thing to do with have been rogues and
cheats. The game with the priests is beginning. What your monk is doing
is not to be despised. Take care of him: it may happen that we shall
have need of him.”
Providentially, the Elector of Saxony was the friend and protector of
Luther. The intrepid monk wrote to the pope a remonstrance against the
iniquities which were practised at Rome.
“You have three or four cardinals,” he wrote, “of learning and faith;
but what are these three or four in so vast a crowd of infidels and
reprobates? The days of Rome are numbered, and the anger of God has
been breathed forth upon her. She hates councils, she dreads reform,
and will not hear of a check being placed on her desperate impiety.”
A diet was summoned at Worms, composed of the princes and potentates
of the great German empire. The Emperor Charles V. presided. Such a
spectacle the world had never witnessed before. Luther was summoned to
appear before this body to be tried for heresy. In those treacherous
days it was not deemed safe for Luther to place himself in the hands
of his enemies, though he had obtained a safe-conduct from the emperor.
His friends urged him not to go to Worms. He replied,――
“If there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles on the roofs
of the houses, I would still go there.”
Before that august assembly, which had predetermined his condemnation
and death, Luther made an eloquent defence, which he concluded in the
following words:――
“Let me, then, be refuted and convinced by the testimony of the
Scriptures, or by the clearest arguments; otherwise I cannot and
will not recant; for it is neither safe nor expedient to act against
conscience. Here I take my stand. I can do no otherwise, so help me
God! Amen.”
He was suffered to depart under his safe-conduct; but he was closely
followed, and measures were taken to arrest him the moment his
safe-conduct should expire.
As, on his return home, he was passing through the gloomy paths of a
forest, some horsemen suddenly appeared, seized him, dressed him in the
disguise of military costume, put on him a false beard, mounted him on
a horse, and drove rapidly away.
“His friends were anxious about his fate; for a dreadful sentence
had been uttered against him by the emperor on the day when his
safe-conduct expired, forbidding any one to sustain or shelter him,
and ordering all persons to arrest and bring him into prison to await
the judgment he deserved.”[204]
To rescue him from this doom, the Elector of Saxony had sent these
troops, who conveyed him secretly, but in safety, to the Castle of
Wartburg. Thus, while it was generally supposed that he had been
waylaid and slain, he was peacefully prosecuting his studies within
the walls of the fortress, safe from his foes.
The conflict between the reformers and the opponents of reform
soon became the all-engrossing question of the age. Many were of the
opinion that the end of the world was at hand. The whole continent of
Europe was shaken by religions and political commotions. The religious
question rallied powerful princes on the opposite sides. The Turks, in
apparently overpowering numbers, were thundering at the gates of many
of the Eastern cities. France was a maelstrom of excitement. Bigoted
Spain declared “heresy” punishable with death. Terrible earthquakes
shook the globe. A large portion of Lisbon in a moment was whelmed in
ruin, burying thirty thousand of the inhabitants beneath the _débris_.
An enormous ocean-wave swept the coast of Holland, consigning four
hundred thousand people to a watery grave.
In the year 1530, the Emperor Charles V. determined to enforce by
military power the oppressive decrees adopted by the Diet at Worms. But
the Reformation in Germany had made extraordinary progress. Many German
princes had adopted its principles, and were ready to draw the sword
in its defence. These princes united in a solemn protest against this
papal intolerance. This protest was signed by such men as John, Elector
of Saxony, George, Margrave of Brandenburg, two Dukes of Brunswick, the
Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, and the governors of twenty-four imperial
cities. From this formidable protest, which was issued in the spring of
the year 1529, the reformers took the name of Protestants, which they
retain at the present day.
The Emperor Charles V., alarmed by this protest, after several
long interviews with the pope, assembled a new diet at Augsburg
in April, 1530. Hoping by menaces or bribes to silence the voice
of ♦Protestantism, he assumed the air of candor. “I have convened,”
he said, “this assembly to consider the difference of opinion upon
the subject of religion. It is my intention to hear both parties
impartially, to examine their respective arguments, and to reform what
requires to be reformed, that there may be in future only one pure and
simple faith, and that, as all are the disciples of the same Jesus, all
may form one and the same church.”
The Protestants appointed Luther and Melancthon to draw up a confession
of their faith. Luther was a stern, unyielding man: Melancthon was
amiable and pliant. Though they agreed in their confession, it did not
exactly suit either. It was a little too yielding for Luther, and too
uncompromising for Melancthon. Subsequently the document was revised
by Melancthon, and somewhat softened to meet his own views. As thus
modified, it was adopted by the German people who took the title of
German Reformed. The Lutherans adhered to the original document.
The emperor, in co-operation with the pope, now threw off the mask, and
resolved by force of arms to compel all to conform to the doctrines and
usages of the Papal Church. He began to gather his armies to crush the
Protestants. They entered into a league for mutual protection. A civil,
religious war was just about to burst upon Germany, when the Turks,
with an army three hundred thousand strong, commenced the ascent of the
Danube. The emperor, alarmed by this terrible invasion, was compelled
to call upon the Protestants for aid; but they feared the dungeons and
flame of the Papal Inquisition more than they did the cimeter of the
Turk. They knew full well, that, as soon as the Turks were repelled,
the emperor would turn the energies of his sword against them. Still
Germany, Protestant and Catholic, had every thing to fear from the
ravages and outrages of the barbarian Turk.
After long negotiations, the Protestants consented to co-operate
with the emperor in repelling the invasion, upon receiving his solemn
pledge to grant them freedom of conscience and of worship. Charles was
astonished at the energy with which the Protestants came forward to
the war. They even tripled the contingents which they had promised,
and fell upon the invaders with such intrepidity as to drive them back
pell-mell to the banks of the Bosphorus. Charles then, in violation of
his pledge, began to proceed against the Protestants. But they, armed,
organized, and flushed with victory, were in no mood to submit to this
perfidy. Some of the more considerate of the Papal party, foreseeing
the torrents of blood that must flow, and the uncertain issue of the
conflict, succeeded in promoting a compromise.
Still Charles was merely temporizing. He at once entered into
vigorous efforts to marshal a force sufficiently powerful to crush the
Protestants. He concluded a truce with the Turks for five years; he
formed a league with Francis King of France, who promised him the whole
military force of his kingdom. In the mean time, the Protestants were
busy wielding those moral powers more potent than sabres or artillery,
than chains or flames. Eloquent preachers were everywhere proclaiming
the corruptions of the Papacy. The new doctrines of the Protestants
involved the principles of civil as well as religious liberty. The most
intelligent and conscientious all over Europe were rapidly embracing
the new doctrine. Several of the ablest of the Catholic bishops
espoused the Protestant cause. The emperor was quite appalled when he
learned that the Archbishop of Cologne, who was one of the electors of
the empire, had joined the Protestants. So many of the German princes
had adopted the principles of the Reformation, that they had a majority
in the electoral diet. In Switzerland, also, Protestantism had won the
majority of the people. Still, throughout Europe, Catholicism was in
the vast ascendency.
Charles resolved to attempt by stratagem that which he recoiled from
undertaking by force. He proposed to the Protestants that a general
council should be convened at Trent, and that each party should pledge
itself to abide by the decision of a majority of votes. The council,
however, was to be summoned by the pope; and Charles, by co-operation
with the pope, had made arrangements that the overwhelming majority of
the council should be opposed to the reformers. The Protestants, of
course, rejected so silly a proposition.
Still the emperor and the pope resolved to hold the council, and to
enforce its decrees by their armies. The pope furnished the emperor
with thirteen thousand troops and over a million of dollars. Charles
raised two large armies of his own subjects,――one in the Low Countries,
and one in the States of Austria. His brother Ferdinand, King of
Hungary and of Bohemia, also raised two armies of co-operation,
one from each of those countries. The King of France mustered his
confederate legions, and loudly proclaimed that the day of vengeance
had come, in which the Protestants were to be annihilated. The pope
issued a decree, in which he offered the pardon of all their sins to
those who should engage in this war of extermination of the Protestants.
The reformers were in consternation: the forces marshalled against
them seemed to be resistless. But Providence does not always side with
the heavy battalions. With energy which surprised both themselves and
their foes, they raised an army of eighty thousand men, nearly every
individual of whom was a hero, fully comprehending the cause for which
he had drawn the sword, and ready to lay down his life in its defence.
Battles ensued, blood flowed, and a wail of misery spread over the
unhappy realms, which we have no space here to describe. Charles was
apparently triumphant. He crushed the Protestant league, subjected the
pope to his will, and was about to convene a council to confirm all he
had done, when wide-spread disaffection, which had long been slumbering,
blazed forth all over the German empire.
The intolerance of the haughty monarch caused a general burst of
indignation against him. Maurice, King of Saxony, which was the most
powerful State of the Germanic confederacy, headed the insurrection.
France, annoyed by the arrogance of the emperor, readily joined the
standard of Maurice. The Protestants in crowds flocked to his ranks;
for he had issued a declaration that he had taken up arms to prevent
the destruction of the Protestant religion, to defend the liberties
of Germany, and to rescue from the dungeon innocent men imprisoned for
their faith alone. Nominal Catholics were found shoulder to shoulder
in co-operation with the Protestants. Whole provinces rushed to join
this army. Maurice was regarded as the advocate of civil and religious
liberty. Imperial towns threw open their gates joyfully to Maurice. In
one month, the aspect of every thing was changed.
The Catholic ecclesiastics, who were assembling at Trent, alarmed
at this new attitude of affairs, dissolved the assembly, and fled
precipitately to their homes. The emperor was at Innspruck――seated
in his arm-chair, with his limbs bandaged in flannel, enfeebled, and
suffering from a severe attack of the gout――when the intelligence of
this sudden and overwhelming reverse reached him. He was astonished,
and utterly confounded. In weakness and pain, unable to leave his
couch, with his treasury exhausted, his army widely scattered, and so
pressed by their foes that they could not be concentrated, there was
nothing left for him but to endeavor to beguile Maurice into a truce.
But Maurice was as much at home in all the arts of cunning as was
the emperor, and, instead of being beguiled, contrived to entrap his
antagonist. This was a new and very salutary experience for Charles.
It is a very novel sensation for a successful rogue to be the dupe of
roguery.
Maurice pressed on, his army gathering force at every step. He
entered the Tyrol, swept through all its valleys, and took possession
of all its castles and sublime fastnesses; and the blasts of his bugles
reverberated through the cliffs of the mountains, ever sounding the
charge and announcing victory, never signalling a defeat. The emperor
was reduced to the terrible humiliation of saving himself from capture
only by flight. He could scarcely credit the statement when he received
the appalling tidings that his foes were within a day’s march of
Innspruck, and that a squadron of horse might at any hour cut off his
retreat.
It was night when this communication was made to him,――a dark and
stormy night,――the 20th of May, 1552. The rain fell in torrents, and
the wind howled through the fir-trees and through the crags of the
Alps. The tortures of the gout would not allow him to mount his horse,
neither could he bear the jolting in a carriage over the rough roads.
Some attendants wrapped the monarch in blankets, took him into the
courtyard of the palace, and placed him upon a litter. Servants led
the way with lanterns; and thus, through the inundated and storm-swept
defiles, they fled with their helpless sovereign through the long hours
of the tempestuous night, not daring to stop one moment, lest they
should hear behind them the iron hoofs of their pursuers.
What a change for one short month to produce! What a comment upon
earthly grandeur! It is well for man, in the hour of exultant
prosperity, to be humble: he knows not how soon he may fall.
Instructive, indeed, is the apostrophe of Cardinal Wolsey, illustrated
as the truth he uttered is by almost every page of history:――
“This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms:
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And――when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening――nips his root;
And then he falls as I do.”
The fugitive emperor did not venture to stop for refreshment or repose
until he had reached the strong town of Villach in Corinthia. The
troops of Maurice soon entered the city which Charles had abandoned,
and the imperial palace was surrendered to pillage. Heroic courage,
indomitable perseverance, always command respect. These are noble
qualities, though they may be exerted in a bad cause. The will of
Charles was unconquerable. In these hours of disaster, tortured with
pain, driven from his palace, impoverished, and borne upon his litter
in humiliating flight before his foes, he was just as determined to
enforce his plan as in the most brilliant hour of victory.[205]
The emperor was at length constrained, in view of new menaces from
the Turks, to assent to the celebrated Treaty of Passau, on the 2d of
August, 1552. The spirit of true toleration was then scarcely known
in the world. After long debate, in which both parties were often at
the point of grasping arms, it was agreed that the Protestants should
enjoy the free exercise of their religion in the places specified by
the Augsburg Confession. In all other places Protestant princes might
prohibit the Catholic religion in their States, and Catholic princes
might prohibit the Protestant religion; but in each case the expelled
party were to be at liberty to sell their property, and to emigrate
without molestation to some State where their religion was dominant.
Even this wretched burlesque of toleration was so offensive to the
pope, that he threatened to excommunicate the emperor and his brother
Ferdinand if they did not immediately declare these decrees to be null
and void throughout their dominions.
Charles V. unquestionably inherited a taint of insanity. His mother,
the unhappy Joanna, daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, after
lingering for years in the most insupportable glooms of delirium, died
on the 4th of April, 1555. Her imperial son had already become the
victim of extreme despondency. Harassed by disappointments, mortified
by reverses, and annoyed by the undutiful conduct of his son, he shut
himself up in his room, refusing to see any company but his sister and
servants, and rendering himself insupportable to them by his petulance
and moroseness. For nine months he did not sign a paper. He was but
fifty-five years of age, but was prematurely old, and the victim of
many depressing diseases. There was probably not a more wretched man
in all Europe than the Emperor Charles V.
He resolved, by abdicating the throne, to escape from the cares which
tortured him. The important ceremony took place with much funereal pomp
on the 4th of April, 1555.
The emperor had fixed upon the Convent of St. Justus, in Estremadura,
Spain, as the place of his retreat. The massive pile was far removed
from the busy scenes of the world, imbosomed among hills covered with
wide-spread and gloomy forests, with a mountain rivulet murmuring by
its walls. There is considerable diversity in the accounts transmitted
to us of convent-life. According to the best evidence which can now be
obtained, it was as follows:――
The emperor caused to be erected within the walls of the convent
a small building, two stories high, with four rooms on each floor.
These rooms, tapestried in mourning, were comfortably furnished. Choice
paintings ornamented the walls, and the emperor was served from silver
plate. Charles was not of a literary turn of mind, and a few devotional
books constituted his only library. A pleasant garden, with a high
enclosure which sheltered the recluse from all observation, invited the
emperor to gravelled walks fringed with flowers.
The days passed monotonously. The emperor attended mass every morning
in the chapel, and dined at an early hour in the refectory of the
convent. After dinner he listened for a short time to the reading of
some book of devotion. He was scrupulously attentive to the fasts and
festivals of the Church, and, every evening, listened to a sermon in
the chapel. In penance for his sins, he scourged himself frequently
with such severity of flagellation, that the cords of the whip were
stained with blood.
Being fond of mechanical pursuits, he employed many hours in carving
puppets and children’s playthings, and constructed some articles of
furniture. His room was filled with timepieces of every variety of
construction. It is said, that, when he found how impossible it was to
make any two of them keep precisely the same time, he exclaimed upon
his past folly in endeavoring to compel all men to think alike upon the
subject of religion.
His bodily sufferings were severe from the gout, by which he was
helplessly crippled. Most of the time he spent in extreme dejection.
It was evident that his health was rapidly failing, and that, ere long,
he must sink into the grave. Under these circumstances, he adopted
the extraordinary idea of rehearsing his own funeral. As the story
has generally come down to us, all the melancholy arrangements for
his burial were made, and the coffin provided. The emperor reclined
upon his bed as if dead: he was wrapped in his shroud, and placed in
his coffin. The monks and all the inmates of the convent attended in
mourning; the bells tolled, requiems were chanted by the choir, the
funeral-service was read; and then the emperor, as if dead, was placed
in the tomb of the chapel, and the congregation retired.
The monarch, after remaining some time in his coffin to impress
himself with what it is to die and be buried, rose from the tomb,
kneeled before the altar in the chill church for some time in worship,
and then returned to his room to pass the night in meditation and
prayer. The shock and chill of these melancholy scenes were too much
for the feeble frame and weakened mind of the monarch. He was seized
with a fever, and in a few days breathed his last; and his spirit
ascended to that tribunal where all must answer for the deeds done in
the body.
The reformers of the sixteenth century, in the various countries of
Europe, have acquired renown which will never die. We give a group
containing the portraits of five, who were among the most illustrious
of these men, with the accompanying brief sketch of their lives.
Illustration: REFORMERS OF THE 16th CENTURY
John Calvin was born at Noyon, in Picardy, one of the northern
provinces of France, on the 10th of July, 1509. In his earliest years
he developed remarkable intellect; and his father, who was a cooper,
dedicated him to the Church. When twelve years of age, he received a
benefice in the cathedral of his native city; and, when but eighteen
years old, was appointed to a cure. While still pursuing in Paris his
theological studies, the great truths of the reformers dawned upon his
mind, and so disturbed him, that he renounced his intention of serving
in the priesthood, and devoted himself to the study of the law.
When but twenty-two years of age, he published a Latin commentary
upon the “De Clementia” of Seneca; and, being suspected of favoring
the new doctrine of the reformers, he was compelled to flee from Paris.
The Canon of Angoulême gave him refuge; and under his hospitable roof
he commenced writing his world-renowned work, “The Institutes of the
Christian Religion.” He devoted two years to this treatise, and in the
mean time repaired to Navarre. Queen Margaret of Navarre, who was the
cordial patron of learned men, received him hospitably. Here Calvin
continued to pursue his studies, and made the acquaintance of many of
the most eminent men of Europe in all the various branches of learning.
After a time, returning to France, he was again compelled to seek
safety in flight; and he established himself at Basle.
Here he published, in August, 1535, his “Institutes.” It was a
carefully-drawn-up confession of the faith of those who in France were
condemned to the most terrible persecution, and even to the stake, for
their opinions. The excitement and peril of the times were such, that
the work had an immense circulation among the reformers all over Europe,
and placed Calvin at the head of the advocates of the new doctrines.
“Scattered far and wide through schools, the castles of the _noblesse_,
the houses of the citizens, even the workshops of the people, ‘The
Institutes’ became the most powerful of preachers. Around this book
the Protestants gathered as around a standard. They found every thing
there,――doctrine, discipline, church organization.”[206]
The work was dedicated to the king, Francis I. In this dedication
Calvin said, “It is your office, sire, not to turn away your ears or
your heart from so just a defence, especially since it is a question
of great importance to know how the glory of God shall be maintained
on the earth. Oh subject worthy of your attention, worthy of your
jurisdiction, worthy of your royal throne!”
It is said that the king did not deign even to read this epistle.
In 1536 Calvin was appointed pastor of a church, and professor of
a theological school, in Geneva. His voluminous writings continued
to attract the attention of all Europe, and the French Protestants
generally took the name of Calvinists. The amount of labor performed
by Calvin seems almost incredible. He preached daily, delivered
theological lectures three times a week, and attended all the meetings
of the Consistory of the Association of Ministers, and was the leading
mind in the councils. He was continually consulted for advice upon
questions of law and theology. He issued a vast number of pamphlets in
defence of his opinions, commentaries on the Bible, and maintained a
very extensive correspondence with distinguished men all over Europe.
Besides his numerous printed sermons, he left in the library of Geneva
two thousand and twenty-five in manuscript.[207]
The burning of Michael Servetus at the stake for heresy is often urged
as an irreparable blot upon the character of Calvin. Candid men will
attribute much of the intolerance of individuals in those days to the
spirit of the times. Speaking upon this subject, M. G. de Félice says
very judiciously,――
“The execution of Michael Servetus has furnished the subject of a
disputation constantly renewed. An able historian of our day, M. Mignet,
has just devoted a long and learned dissertation to it. It would lead
us entirely beyond our plan to enter into these details. 1. Servetus
was not an ordinary heretic. He was a bold pantheist, and outraged the
dogma of all Christian communions by saying that God in three persons
was a Cerberus,――a monster with three heads. 2. He had already been
condemned to death by the Catholic doctors at Vienna, in Dauphiny.
3. The affair was judged, not by Calvin, but by the magistrates of
Geneva; and, if it is objected that his advice must have influenced
their decision, it is necessary to recollect that the councils of
the other reformed cantons of Switzerland approved the sentence with
a unanimous voice. 4. It was, in fine, of the highest interest for
the Reformation to separate distinctly its cause from that of such an
unbeliever as Servetus. The Catholic Church, which in our day accuses
Calvin of having participated in his condemnation, much more would
have accused him in the sixteenth century with having solicited his
acquittal.”[208]
Naturally, Calvin was impatient and irascible. In one of his letters to
Bucer, he writes,――
“I have no harder battles against my sins, which are great and numerous,
than those in which I seek to conquer my impatience. I have not yet
gained the mastery over this raging beast.”
Calvin died the 27th of May, 1564, in the fifty-fifth year of his
age. He was of middle stature, pale countenance, brilliant eyes, and
was extremely abstemious in his habits of living. For many years, he
partook of but one meal a day. In the will which he dictated a short
time before his death, he called God to witness the sincerity of
his faith, and rendered thanks to him for having employed him in the
service of Jesus Christ.
Philip Melancthon was alike distinguished for his native force of
character, his intellectual culture, his piety, and his amiability.
He was born in the palatinate of the Rhine, on the 16th of February,
1497. In early boyhood, his progress in study, especially in the
acquisition of the ancient languages, was very extraordinary. At the
age of thirteen, he entered the University at Heidelberg. Here he so
distinguished himself by his scholarship, that in one year he took the
degree of bachelor of arts, and became tutor to several of the sons of
the nobility. In 1512, when fifteen years of age, he repaired to the
University of Tübingen, where he devoted himself with great assiduity
to the study of theology. At the age of eighteen he received the degree
of master of arts, gave lectures on the Greek and Latin authors, and
published a Greek grammar. His erudition and eloquence gave him such
celebrity, that, when twenty-two years of age, he was invited to
Wittenberg as professor of the Greek language and literature. Here
he warmly embraced the cause of evangelical truth as advocated by
the reformers. His sound judgment, rich classical taste, ardent piety,
and fervid imagination, gave a peculiar charm to every thing which
proceeded from his pen. Bringing these qualities into alliance with the
energy, impetuosity, and enterprise of Luther, he contributed greatly
to the spread of the doctrines of the Reformation. His mild spirit
in some degree softened the rigor of Luther, and his writings were
universally admired by the Protestant world. Associated with Luther,
he drew up the celebrated “Confession” of Augsburg in 1530. This, with
the “Apology” for it which he subsequently composed, gave him renown
through all Europe.
“He was nowhere more amiable than in the bosom of his family. No
one who saw him for the first time would have recognized the great
reformer in his almost diminutive figure, which always continued meagre
from his abstemiousness and industry. But his high, arched, and open
forehead, and his bright, handsome eyes, announced the energetic,
lively mind which this slight covering enclosed, and which lighted
up his countenance when he spoke. In his conversation, pleasantries
were intermingled with the most sagacious remarks; and no one left
him without having been instructed and pleased. His ready benevolence,
which was the fundamental trait of his character, embraced all who
approached him. Open and unsuspicious, he always spoke from the heart.
Piety, a dignified simplicity of manners, generosity, were to him so
natural, that it was difficult for him to ascribe opposite qualities
to any man.”[209]
For nearly half a century, Melancthon was one of the most prominent
actors in that tremendous conflict between the Papal Church and
Protestant reform which then agitated all Europe. Few men have been
so universally and ardently loved. Notwithstanding the vehemence
of Luther’s character, and the mildness of Melancthon’s spirit, the
friendship between these two remarkable men continued unabated through
life. From all parts of Europe students flocked to Wittenberg, lured
there by the mental and moral attractions of Melancthon.
It is recorded of this illustrious man, that, in the commencement
of his ministry, he fancied that no one could resist the glad tidings
of the gospel. With powers of eloquence which fascinated thronging
audiences, he depicted the love of God, the joys of heaven, the
companionship of angels,――all offered to the repentant sinner without
money and without price; but the multitudes who listened with delight
to his glowing descriptions and his powerful appeals scattered from
the church with no disposition manifested to give their hearts to
the Saviour, or to consecrate their lives to his service. At length,
the preacher, around whose pulpit the incense of popular applause was
continually ascending, was heard to say in bitterness of lamentation,
“Old Adam is too strong for young Melancthon.”
This great and good man died at Wittenberg on the 19th of April, 1560,
in the sixty-third year of his age.
Martin Luther has generally been regarded as the father of the
Reformation. He was certainly one of the greatest men of the sixteenth
century. He was the son of very poor parents, his father being a miner;
and was born at Eisleben, Nov. 10, 1483. Martin’s childhood was simply
such as was to be expected in the home of poor but very religious
parents. At the age of fourteen he was sent to school at Magdeburg;
but his destitution was so great, that he often obtained a few pence,
which contributed essentially to his support, by singing in the streets.
Still he made rapid progress in study; and, being taken under the
care of a maternal relation, at the age of eighteen he entered the
University of Erfurt. Here the closeness of his application and his
attainments soon attracted the attention of his teachers.
The Bible at that time was a sealed book to the laity. Luther, to his
great delight, found a copy in the Latin language in the library of
the university. He studied it with the utmost diligence, and became so
interested in its contents, that he resolved to devote himself to the
study of divinity. The sudden death of a friend at this time, who fell
dead at his side, so impressed him with melancholy emotions, that he
decided to withdraw from the world, and immure himself in the glooms of
the cloister. Accordingly, he entered the monastery of the Augustines
at Erfurt in the year 1505, and patiently submitted to all the rigors
and penances imposed upon him by his superiors. But he was tortured
with a sense of sin: none of his self-inflicted sufferings appeased his
conscience. His mental agitation threw him into severe and dangerous
illness. He felt that he had no good works upon which he could rely as
atonement for his many infirmities, and his good sense enabled him to
contemplate with thorough disgust the traffic in indulgences.
But a gleam of new light dawned upon his mind as one of the brothers
spoke to him of salvation from sin and its penalty through faith in the
atonement of Jesus Christ,――salvation through faith, and not by works.
The high intellectual endowments of Luther could not be concealed.
The provincial of the order released him from the menial duties of
the cloister that he might devote himself to the study of theology.
In 1507 he was ordained a Catholic priest; and, one year after, was
made professor of philosophy in the University of Wittenberg. Here his
commanding intellect, and independence of character, collected around
him a large number of disciples. A visit to Rome in 1510 revealed to
him the corruption of the clergy, and utterly destroyed his reverence
for the pope. Upon his return to ♦Wittenberg, at the age of twenty-nine,
he was made a doctor in theology, and became a preacher.
At this time the impudent charlatan Tetzel was traversing Germany,
peddling out his indulgences. The zeal and indignation of Luther were
aroused: he preached against the outrage vehemently, and published
ninety-five propositions, which contained an irrefutable attack upon
the infamous traffic. The propositions were at once declared to be
heretical; but no arts of flattery, or terrors of menace, could induce
the fearless Luther to recant. Pamphlet after pamphlet proceeded from
his pen, assailing the corruptions of the Church; while thousands
gathered to listen to his bold denunciations from the pulpit. In
1520 the pope issued a bull of excommunication against Luther and
his friends, and his writings were publicly burned at Rome, Cologne,
and Louvain. Luther, unintimidated, publicly burned the bull of Papal
excommunication at Wittenberg on the 10th of December, 1520.
Several of the German princes, and many of the most illustrious nobles,
had embraced the doctrines of Luther; so that he was not left without
powerful support. Still the world was amazed at the boldness of an
obscure monk, who thus ventured to bid defiance to the Catholic clergy,
to the fanatic emperor of Germany, and to the pope himself. Luther
was summoned by the emperor to appear at the Diet of Worms, and was
provided with a safe-conduct from his Majesty. Yet his friends trembled
in fear of his assassination. It was upon this occasion, when urged not
to expose himself to such danger, that he gave his memorable reply:――
“If there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles on the roofs
of the houses, I would still go there.”
As Luther approached Worms, when within three miles of the city, a
cavalcade of two thousand citizens came out to honor him with their
escort. The Emperor Charles V. presided at the diet. The body was
composed of the Archduke Ferdinand, six electors, twenty-four dukes,
seven margraves, and many princes, counts, lords, and ambassadors.
Luther’s defence was considered by his friends unanswerable; and his
foes seemed to think that the only reply to be made was by the dagger
of the assassin. To rescue him from this peril, his powerful friends
kidnapped him on his return, as we have mentioned, and conveyed him to
the Castle of Wartburg, where for ten months he was concealed. These
months of retirement he devoted to the translation of the New Testament
into German.
But his impetuous spirit chafed to escape from the prison-bars which
protected him. Through a thousand perils he at length returned to
Wittenberg, and there commenced anew his life of tireless zeal in
assailing the corruptions of the Church. He drew up a new liturgy for
the service of his followers, expurgated of its empty forms; urged
the abolition of monasteries, which had mainly become the resort of
ignorance and vice; and trampled under his feet the prejudices of
papal ecclesiasticism by marrying a nun, Catherine von Bora. Luther
was forty-two years of age when he took this important step.
The virtues as well as the imperfections of this extraordinary man were
those of impetuosity, courage, self-reliance, and indomitable zeal. He
was often very severe. “The severity which he used in the defence of
his faith by no means diminishes the merit of his constancy. An apology
may easily be found for the frequent rudeness of his expressions in
the prevailing mode of speaking and thinking; in the nature of his
undertaking, which required continual contest; in the provocations with
which he was continually assailed; in his frequent sickness; and in his
excitable imagination.”[210]
Even the enemies of Luther, who so bitterly censure the severity often
found in his writings, are constrained to admit that he was impelled by
honest and honorable motives. Luther says of himself,――
“I was born to fight with devils and factions: this is the reason that
my books are so boisterous and stormy. It is my business to remove
obstructions, to cut down thorns, to fill up quagmires, and to open and
make straight the paths. But, if I must necessarily have some failing,
let me rather speak the truth with too great severity than once to act
the hypocrite, and conceal the truth.”
No one can be informed of the amount of labor performed by Luther,
without astonishment. While preaching several times each week,
and often every day, conducting a very extensive and important
correspondence with the reformers all over Europe, he was one of
the most prolific writers of any age, and rendered his name immortal
by translating the Bible into the German language. This latter work
alone one would deem sufficient to have engrossed the most industrious
energies for a lifetime. His admirable hymns are still sung in all the
churches; and the tune of “Old Hundred,” which he composed, will last
while time endures. In the performance of such labors, he lived until
he was sixty-three years of age. Just before he died, he wrote to a
friend in the following pathetic strain:――
“Aged, worn out, weary, spiritless, and now blind of one eye, I long
for a little rest and quietness. Yet I have as much to do, in writing
and preaching and acting, as if I had never written or preached or
acted. I am weary of the world, and the world is weary of me. The
parting will be easy, like that of the guest leaving the inn. I pray
only that God will be gracious to me in my last hour, and I shall quit
the world without reluctance.”
A few days after writing the above, Martin Luther died, at
Eisleben,――on the 18th of February, 1546. He was buried in the Castle
Church at Wittenberg.
John Wickliffe is often called “the morning star” of the Reformation.
He was born in Yorkshire, England, about the year 1324. In his
earliest years he developed unusual mental endowments, and graduated
at Queen’s College, Oxford, with high honors. At the age of thirty-two
he published a treatise upon “The Last Age of the Church,” in which he
ventured to assail some of the assumptions of the pope, and severely to
attack the encroachments of the mendicant friars. In 1372, Wickliffe,
having received the title of D.D., delivered lectures on theology at
Oxford with great applause. At that time a controversy was beginning
to arise between the pope and Edward III., King of England. Edward,
sustained by his parliament, refused to submit to the vassalage which
the pope had exacted of his predecessors. Wickliffe with his pen
very successfully defended the position taken by the king. He thus
secured the favor of his monarch, but exasperated the pope, Gregory XI.
Wickliffe was accused of heresy. The pope issued a bull, and nineteen
articles of alleged false doctrine were drawn up against him. Gregory
issued three bulls addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the
Bishop of London, ordering the seizure and imprisonment of Wickliffe.
In the mean time, Edward III. had died; but the British court and the
populace of London rallied so enthusiastically around Wickliffe, that
no judgment could be taken against him. Soon after this, Gregory XI.
died; and all proceedings against the English reformer were dropped.
But the zeal of Wickliffe was thoroughly aroused; and, encouraged by
the powerful support he received from the British court and from the
people, he assailed with increasing freedom the exorbitant pretensions
of the court of Rome. Speaking of his labors, McIntosh says,――
“The new opinions on religion which now arose mingled with the general
spirit of Christianity in promoting the progress of emancipation, and
had their share in the few disorders which accompanied it. Wickliffe,
the celebrated reformer, had become one of the most famous doctors of
the English Church. His lettered education rendered him no stranger to
the severity with which Dante and Chaucer had lashed the vices of the
clergy without sparing the corruptions of the Roman see itself. His
theological learning and mystical piety led him to reprobate the whole
system of wealth and worldliness, by which a blind bounty had destroyed
the apostolical simplicity and primitive humility of the Christian
religion.”
This eminent man, who in the end of the fourteenth century commenced
the assault upon the corruptions of the court of Rome, died of a
paralytic stroke on the 31st December, 1384. His doctrine and his
spirit survived him, and paved the way for the final and entire
separation of the Church of England from that of Rome. The exasperation
which his writings created in the bosoms of the advocates of the Papacy
may be inferred from the fact, that in the year 1425, forty-one years
after his death, the Council of Constance pronounced his writings
heretical, and ordered his bones to be taken up and burned; which
sentence was executed.
John Knox, who was the most distinguished of the advocates of the
Reformation in Scotland, was born of an ancient family, at Gifford,
East Lothian, in 1505. In early youth he took the degree of master of
arts at St. Andrew’s, and entered upon the study of theology. He soon
became weary of studying the dogmas taught in the Catholic schools,
and eagerly sought light in the plainer precepts of a more common-sense
and practical philosophy. Thus instructed, he abandoned all thoughts
of officiating in the Church of Rome, whose pageants and encroachments,
both secular and ecclesiastical, disgusted him. Some of the doctrines
of the reformers had already penetrated Scotland. Two of the lords who
had embraced these principles employed him as tutor to their sons. Here
he preached, not only to his pupils, but to others, who were drawn in
ever-increasing numbers by his fervid eloquence.
The Catholic Church was still an immense power in Scotland; and
Cardinal Beaton, Archbishop of St. Andrew’s, commenced proceedings
against Knox, which compelled him to take shelter in the Castle of
St. Andrew’s. Here, under powerful protection, he continued boldly to
preach the principles of the Reformation, notwithstanding the hostility
of the Papal priesthood. In July, 1547, the Castle of St. Andrew’s
capitulated to the French, with whom Scotland was then at war. Knox
was taken captive, and was carried with the garrison to France, where
he remained a prisoner on board the galleys for nearly two years. Upon
being released, he returned to London, where he recommenced preaching
as an itinerant, with vehement eloquence which gave him thronged
audiences wherever he went.
Upon the accession of Mary, a fanatic Catholic, to the throne of
England, the most sanguinary laws were revived against the reformers.
Knox fled to Geneva, and was soon invited to become the minister
to a colony of English refugees at Frankfort. Notwithstanding the
persecution by Mary, the advocates of the reformed religion, both in
England and Scotland, rapidly increased, so that in 1555 Knox ventured
to revisit his native land, and preached with increasing energy and
boldness. His fearlessness won for him the admiration of his friends,
and the execration of his foes. Knox being at one time absent on
a visit to Geneva, the Papal bishops condemned him to death as a
heretic, and burned him in effigy at the stake at Edinburgh. Knox drew
up an energetic remonstrance against this condemnation of a man absent
and unheard, and published a pamphlet, written in his most furious
style of eloquence, entitled, “The First Blast of a Trumpet against
the Monstrous Regimen of Women.” This violent pamphlet was aimed at
Bloody Mary, Queen of England, and Mary of Lorraine, widow of James V.,
Queen-Regent of Scotland.
But the shaft aimed at Mary the Papist pierced the bosom of Elizabeth,
a Protestant queen who succeeded her. This haughty princess could not
forgive a man who had written a diatribe against the “monstrous regimen
of women.” But Knox, surrounded by menaces, and in constant peril of
liberty and life, continued fearlessly to assail the corruptions of
the Church. Though the Papal powers in Scotland were sustained by the
armies of Catholic France,――for Mary of Lorraine was sister of the
powerful Duke of Guise,――still, marshalled under so dauntless a leader
as Knox, the reformers of Scotland advanced from victory to victory.
At one time he so inflamed the populace by a vehement harangue against
idolatry, that the excited multitude broke into the churches, destroyed
the altars, tore the pictures to shreds, dashed the images into
fragments, and levelled several monasteries with the ground. These
lawless proceedings were severely censured by the prominent men of
the reform party in Scotland, and by the leaders of the Reformation
throughout Europe.
Protestant England sent an army to aid the Protestants in Scotland.
The Papal queen-regent Mary, with her army of French supporters, was
driven from the kingdom; the Scottish parliament was re-established,
the majority of the members having embraced Protestant opinions; the
old Papal courts were abolished; the exercise of religious worship
according to the rites of the Roman Church was prohibited, and the
doctrine and discipline of the Presbyterian Church established as the
religion of the realm.
In August, 1561, the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, arrived
in Scotland to reign in her own right. She was a zealous Catholic,
and immediately commenced measures to re-establish the religion of
Rome throughout her dominions. Knox, from the pulpit, opened warfare
upon the queen and her partisans with consummate ability, and with
intrepidity which never flinched from any danger. Upon the marriage of
the queen with the youthful Darnley, Knox declared from the pulpit,――
“God, in punishment for our ingratitude and sins, has appointed women
and boys to reign over us.”
At length, worn out with incessant toil and anxiety, and shocked by
the tidings of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, he took to his bed,
and died Nov. 24, 1572, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. The most
distinguished men in Scotland attended his funeral, paying marked honor
to his memory. As his body was lowered into the grave, Earl Morton,
then Regent of Scotland, said,――
“There lies one who never feared the face of man; who hath been often
threatened with dag and dagger, and yet hath ended his days in peace
and honor; for he had God’s providence watching over him in an especial
manner when his life was sought.”
Robertson the historian, commenting upon the character of this
illustrious reformer, remarks, with obvious truthfulness, that the
severity of his deportment, his impetuosity of temper, and zealous
intolerance, were qualities which, though they rendered him less
amiable, fitted him to advance the Reformation among a fierce people,
and to surmount opposition to which a more gentle spirit would have
yielded.[211]
It is pleasant to turn from these scenes of sin and misery to a
beautiful exemplification of true piety,――a spirit of devotion to God
so true, that it is scarcely sullied by the errors and imperfections of
an age of darkness.
In every denomination you can find those who are a disgrace to the
cause of Christ. There was a Judas even among the apostles. In every
Christian denomination you will find those who are burning and shining
lights in the world; who live the life of the righteous, die the death
of the righteous, and go home to glory.
About a hundred and sixty years ago, there was in the heart of
Germany a young duchess, Eleonora, residing in the court of her father
Philip, the elector palatine. In childhood she became a Christian,――an
earnest and warm-hearted Christian. Guided by the teachings of her
spiritual instructors, who, though doubtless sincere, had ingrafted
upon the precepts of the Bible the traditions and superstitions of
that dark age, she was taught to deprive herself of almost every
innocent gratification, and to practise upon her fragile frame all the
severities of an anchorite. Celibacy was especially commended to her as
a virtue peculiarly grateful to God; and she consequently declined all
solicitations for her hand.
Leopold, the widowed emperor of Germany, sent a magnificent retinue to
the palace of the grand elector, and solicited Eleonora for his bride.
It was the most brilliant match Europe could furnish; but Eleonora,
notwithstanding all the importunities of her parents, rejected the
proffered crown.
As the emperor urged his plea, the conscientious maiden, that she might
render herself personally unattractive to him, neglected her dress, and
exposed herself, unbonneted, to the sun and wind. She thus succeeded in
repelling his suit; and the emperor married Claudia of Tyrol.
The elector palatine was one of the most powerful of the minor princes
of Europe; and his court, in gayety and splendor, rivalled even that
of the emperor. Eleonora was compelled to be a prominent actor in the
gorgeous saloons of her father’s palace, and to mingle with the festive
throng in all their pageants of pleasure.
But her heart was elsewhere. Several hours every day were devoted
to prayer and religious reading. She kept a minute journal, in which
she scrupulously recorded and condemned her failings. She visited
the sick in lowly cottages, and with her own hands performed the most
self-denying duties required at the bedside of pain and death.
After the lapse of three years, Claudia died; and again the widowed
emperor sought the hand of Eleonora. Her spiritual advisers now urged
that it was her duty to accept the imperial alliance, since upon the
throne she could render herself so useful in extending the influence of
the Church. Promptly she yielded to the voice of duty, and, charioted
in splendor, was conveyed a bride to Vienna.
But her Christian character remained unchanged. She carried the
penance and self-sacrifice of the cloister into the voluptuousness
of the palace. The imperial table was loaded with every luxury; but
Eleonora, the empress, drank only cold water, and ate of fare as humble
as could be found in any peasant’s hut. On occasions of state, it
was needful that she should be dressed in embroidered robes of purple
and gold; but, to prevent any possibility of the risings of pride,
her dress and jewelry were so arranged with sharp brass pricking the
flesh, that she was kept in a state of constant discomfort. Thus she
endeavored, while discharging with the utmost fidelity the duties of
a wife and an empress, to be ever reminded that life is but probation.
These mistaken austerities, caused by the darkness of the age,
only show how sincere was her consecration to God. When Eleonora
attended the opera with the emperor, she took with her the Psalms
of David, bound to represent the books of the performance, and thus
unostentatiously endeavored to shield her mind from the profane and
indelicate allusions with which the operas of those days were filled,
and from which, as yet, they are by no means purified.
She translated the Psalms and several other devotional books into
German verse for the benefit of her subjects. She was often seen, with
packages of garments and baskets of food, entering the cottages of the
poor peasantry around her country palace, ministering like an angel of
mercy to all their wants.
At length her husband, the emperor, was taken sick. Eleonora watched
at his pillow with all the assiduity of a Sister of Charity: she hardly
abandoned her post for a moment, by day or by night, until, with her
own hands, she closed his eyes as he slept in death.
Eleonora survived her husband fifteen years, devoting herself through
all this period to the instruction of the ignorant, to nursing the sick,
to feeding and clothing the poor. All possible luxury she discarded,
and endeavored as closely as possible to imitate her Saviour, who had
not where to lay his head.
Her death was like the slumber of a child who falls asleep upon its
mother’s bosom. At her express request, her funeral was unattended
with any display. She directed that there should be inscribed upon her
tombstone simply the words,――
“ELEONORA,――a POOR SINNER.”
This brief narrative shows very truly what is the true nature of
religion,――the religion of Jesus. It shows its spirit independently of
all external customs and manners. No one can doubt that Eleonora was a
Christian; and yet we can all see, that, in that dark age, she was not
well instructed. She practised austerities which Jesus does not require;
and yet who can doubt the cordiality of her welcome at the celestial
gates?
She took up a far heavier cross than any which the disciples of Jesus
are ordinarily required to lift. She simply did what she thought it her
duty to do as a disciple of Jesus. And now, for a century and a half,
she has been an angel in heaven; and she finds that all these light
afflictions of her earthly life have indeed worked out for her a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.
Mothers and daughters, Jesus loves you; he loves you with inconceivable
love. He has died to redeem you. He now lives to intercede for you.
With tearful eyes he says, “How can I give thee up? My daughter, give
me thy heart: come unto me, and be saved.”
He is ready to meet you at the celestial gates, and to give you a
cordial welcome. He is ready to lead you to the heavenly mansion, and
to say, “This is your home forever.” He is ready to introduce you to
angel-companionship, that you may, through endless ages, share their
songs and their everlasting joy.