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.

HE 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. Aherald 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 Ichoose. If you will promise me six favors which Ishall ask of you as pope, Iwill 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. Ishall be always ready to do your will.”

“The six special favors Ihave to ask are these: first, that you will reconcile me entirely with the Church, that Imay 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 Ireserve 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. Aregular 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. Iam 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, Iam 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. Iremit 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, Iwould 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 Icannot and will not recant; for it is neither safe nor expedient to act against conscience. Here Itake my stand. Ican 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. Alarge 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. “Ihave 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. Acivil, 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:—

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. Apleasant 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.

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 Iseek to conquer my impatience. Ihave 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. Avisit 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, Iwould 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 Imust 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, Ilong for a little rest and quietness. Yet Ihave as much to do, in writing and preaching and acting, as if Ihad never written or preached or acted. Iam weary of the world, and the world is weary of me. The parting will be easy, like that of the guest leaving the inn. Ipray only that God will be gracious to me in my last hour, and Ishall 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 Igive 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.