Macaiiley's epigram may justly be applied to him "Each act of his life reflects fresh infamy upon every other."
When Rome heard of his death, " the whole city ran together, and could not satiate their eyes with gazing on this dead viper."
On the day of his coronation he made his son Caesar Borgia, the ideal hero of crime, archbishop of Valencia and bishop of Pampeluna.
" That spot of earth in which iniquity had attained such a height was the throne of the pontiffs.""
It is recorded of Alexander Borgia, that he celebrated the nuptials of his daughter Lucretia Borgia, of hideous memory, in the Vatican, by festivities at which his acknoAvledged mistress, Julia Bella, was openly present, and which were enlivened by farces, indecent songs, and orgies of which the most impure groves of ancient worship saw not the like.i"
In explanation of the unblushing appearance of Julia Bella on that occasion, Capello, an ambassador at Rome in 1500, asserts that "all the clergy kept mistresses, and all the convents of the capital were houses of ill-fame.":]:
Pius Third, who succeeded Alexander, wore the tiara less than a year, his successor being Julius Second, a worldly and intriguing churchman, more reuowned for his military ambition than for his apostolic virtues.
The result of his assumption of the purple was the inauguration of an unprovoked and desolating war, which soaked the sods of hal^ the • D'Aubigne's Hist, of the Kef., Vol.
Extracted by Eanke in his Hist, of the Popes.
THE LIFE AND TIMES continent in blood, simply to glut tlie martial appetite of this atrocious priest.
But the college of Cardinals took good care that the reign of no one of the pontiffs of that age should be over-long.
Poison and the stiletto were constantly invoked by unscrupulous and ambitious prelates anxious to abridge for their own benefit the lives of the successors of St. Peter, while one pope followed another in rapid succession, hurled from the pontifical throne into a bloody and untimely grave.
If any learning was found among tlip clergy, it was not in sacred literature.
The faculty of theology at Paris made this declaration to the Parliament Religion is ruined, if you permit the study of Greek and Hebrew."
Heresbach, a friend of Erasmus, reports that the monks commonly held that Greek and Hebrew were the nurseries of heresy.*
A certain monk was one day heard to affirm that " the New Testament is a book full of serpents and thorns.
Greek," he continued, "is a new and recently invented language, and we must be upon our guard against it.
As for Hebrew, my dear brethren, it is certain that all who learn it immediately become Jews."t The Ciceronians of Italy affected a great contempt for the Bible on account of its style.
Pretended priests of the church of Christ translated the writings of holy men, inspired by the Spirit of God, in the style of Yirgil and of Horace, to accommodate their language to the ears of polite society.
Cardinal Bembo, instead of tlie Holy Ghost, used to write, the breath of the heavenly zephyr ; for the expression, to forgive sins, lie substituted, to hend the manes of the sovereign gods ; and for Christ the Son of God, the impious pedant wrote, Minerva sprungfrom the head of Jupiter.
Discovering Sadolet one day engaged in translating the epistle to the Romans, Bembo said to him, "Leave these childish matters; such fooleries do not become a sensible man."*
Thus scarcely a vestige remained of the noble simpHcity and holiness which had given such an influence to the earlier Christian teachers.
Even the boasted unity of the Eoman church had ceased to exist, save in name.
It is a remarkable fact, that the various monastic orders claimed support on directly contrary principles.
Francis contended that the jDerfection of the Christian character could only be attained by the discipline of poverty.
Dominicans and others seemed to consider that the dignity of holiness could only be supported by princely revenues, and they accordingly amassed as much wealth as they could gather.f
There was no unity of faith.
The jDope held one thing ; the various bishops held different tenets, or were open scoffers; while the masses looked on bewildered and aghast.
Felleri, mau. iued., p. 400.
Stebbiiig's History of the Reformation.
Sucli was the thin film of that rotten civiHzation beneath which the earthquake of the Reformation began to heave.
This is a tame picture of the scandal and the infamy which had crept into ccclesiasticism, and which God commissioned Martin Luther remorselessly to expose and grandly to remedy.
On the morning of liis entrance into the monasteiy, the 18th of July, 1505, Luther sat down to 'vvi'ite his father of the resolution he had carried into effect, and to beg his forgiveness and his blessing.
He also wrote to several of his Erfurth friends, one of whom he requested to send to his parents the rings and gown which he had received from the University upon being admitted to his Mastership of This done, feeling the hold which the world still had upon him, and fearful of meeting the test of his father's venerated features grief-stricken and tearful, he shut himself up resolutely in the lonely seclusion of his cell, into which he Avould allow none but the Augustinians to enter for the space of a month.*
Meantime his fellow-students and relatives literally beset and besieged the cloister for several days, grieved even to tears that a genius of so high an order should be buried alive in a monastery, and determined if possible to regain him—all in vain, however, for Luther could not even be reached, much less moved.
Martin's father returned a written answer to his son's letter, in which he announced his withdrawal of all favor and parental good-will.
A few weeks after this missive had been dispatched, the plague * Michelet's "Hist, of Luther."
THE LIFE AND TIMES carried two of the remaining sons of John Luther to early graves.
Being informed at the same time that Martin was ill, and in danger of falling a victim to the dread disease, his friends urged him to sacrifice his personal wishes, and, bowing to the inevitable, give his consent to his son's entrance into the These entreaties at first met with a resolute refusal; but the indignant and disappointed father was at length Avon to hesitate, and finally to mutter,
God grant that he may do well."* Luther, meantime, had laid aside his name Martin, as was the custom in cloisters, and was thenceforth called Augustinius, a change which he afterwards greatly abhorred.f
Luther, at that period of shameless apathy and of general debauchery, had been influenced purely by conscientious motives in assuming the livery of that flagitious church whose iniquities God afterwards appointed him so coml^letely to uncloak.
It is certain that at this time he had no predisposition towards heresy.
Romanism did not then possess a more loyal, unquestioning, and devoted son.| Indeed he had some claim to say with St. Paul, I was " brought \ip at the feet of Gamaliel, and taught according to the perfect manner of the law of the fathers."§
In the comparatively quiet and pure atmosphere of an isolated Thuringian village, shut ujj in a clois- * Meurer's Life of Ltither.
'ter, immersed in study, every moment occupied in the manifold labors of his novitiate, Luther slumbered in liappy ignorance of the demoraHzation of the If occasionally reports of the dissolute manners of the age, and of the profligacy of the priesthood, penetrated his cell, the fresh enthusiasm of the young Augustinian led him to regard them as the whisperings of malice, or as the idle gossip of wicked scoffers.
Burning with a desire for that holiness which he then imagined could only be found amid the austerities of the cloister, he gave himself completely up to the full rigors of asceticism.
His monastic life was that of a thorough hermit.
Sometimes, however, he alleviated the monotony of his days by singing.
He was particularly fond of the Gregorian chant; and his greatest delight was to find some young chorister who would take a part with him in chanting it.
At other times, he would leave his cell at daybreak, proceed into the country, and at the foot of some tree familiarize himself with the forms of extemporaneous preaching by expounding the word of God to the astounded shepherds.
Then he would lie down and chat with them, or fall to sleep, lulled by their simple minstrelsy.* «;he gala-days of the young recluse.
Ordinarily his novitiate was one of peculiar hardship and trial.
It was customary with the monks to impose upon novices all the meaner drudg- * Audiu's " Histoire dc Luther."
THE LIFE AND TIMES eries of monastic life.
Luther's superiors, who had' marked the somewhat haughty tendency of his mind, thought it necessary to break down the walls of his pride; and they accordingly tried his fitness for his adopted vocation in various vexatious ways.
At the outset, poor Martin had not only to officiate as porter, sexton, and servant, but he had no sooner performed these duties than, given scanty time for study and meditation, he was driven into the streets to beg for his order.
One day when he ventured to request more time for his scholarly and theological pursuits, this Latin was flung into his ears
" Cum sacco per civifatem,'" with the bag through the town; "by mendicancy, not by study, are cloisters served and enriched."
This severity of discipline was ere long someAviiat relaxed, owing to the intercession of the Erfurth University, and especially to the remonstrances of Dr. Staupitz, vicar of the Augustinian order, who, upon the novice's comjilaint, reminded the prior, on one of his regular visits of inspection to the monastery, that Luther was a studious man and a magister, and that in consequence more time ought to be allowed him for study and reflection.*
And here, at the mention of John Staupitz's name, it is fitting to turn aside for a moment, for the purpose of quoting D'Aubign6's sketch of this amiable and worthy vicar, who played so large a part in the introductory scenes of Luther's life.
" The gloomy walls of the cloisters often conceal- * JNIcurci's Life of Buthcr. ed tlie most abominable vices, that would have made every upright mind shudder; but often, also, they hid Christian virtues that had expanded there in silence, and which, had they been exposed to the eyes of the world, would have excited universal admiration.
The possessors of these virtues, living only with themselves and with God, attracted no attention, and were often unknown to the modest convent in which they were enclosed
: their lives were known only to God.
Sometimes these humble solitaires fell into that mystic theology—sad disease of the noblest minds—which in earlier ages had been the delight of the first monks on the banks of the Xile, and which unprofitabl}' consumes the souls of tliose who become its victims.
"Yet if one of these men Avas called to high station, he there displayed virtues whose salutary influence was long and widely felt.
The candle was set on a candlestick, and it illumined the whole house.
Many were awakened by this light.
Thus from generation to generation were these pious souls propagated ; they were seen shining like isolated torches at the very times when the cloisters were often little other than impure receptacles of the deepest darkness.
" A young man had been thus distinguished in one of the German convents.
Staupitz, and he was descended from a noble Misnian family.
From his tenderest youth he hacfhad a taste for knowledge and a love of virtue.
He soon discovered that philosophy and the study of nature THE LIFE AND TIMES could not do mucli towards eternal salvation
Ho therefore began to study diAdnity; but especially endeavored to unite practice with kQowledge.
'For,' said one of his biographers, 'it is in vain that we assume the title of divine, if we do not confirm that noble title by our lives.'*
The study of the Bible and of the Augustine theology, the knowledge of himself, the battles that he, like Luther, had to light against the deceits and lusts of his heart, led him to the Kedeemer.
He found peace to his soul in faith in Christ.
The doctrine of election by grace had taken strong hold of his mind.
The integrity of his life, the extent of his knowledge, the eloquence of his speech, not less than a striking exterior and dignified manners,! recommended him to his contemporaries.
" Frederic the Wise, Elector of Saxony, made him his friend, employed him in various embassies, and founded the University of Wittemberg under his direction.
Augustine was the first dean of the theological faculty of that school whence the light was one day to issue to illumine the schools and churches of so many nations.
He was present at the Lateran Council as proxy of the archbishop of Saltzburg, became provincial of his order in Thuringia and Saxony, and afterwards vicar-general of the AugTistines of all Germany.
Staupitz was grieved at the corruption of morals * Melch. Adam, Vita Stnnpizii.
" Corporis foniia nt(iuo st:itmM conspioims -59 and tlie errors of doctrine tliat were devastating the cliurcli.
But tlie mildness and indecision of his character, his desire not to go beyond the sphere of action he thought assigned to him, made him fitter to be the restorer of a convent than the reformer of the church."*
Staupitz at the period of his memorable visit to the Erfurth monastery, when he discovered Martin Luther sad and broken by conventual rigor, and felt himself irresistibly drawn towards the sombre and agitated novice.
After administering to his remarkable young brother all the consolation possible, Staupitz advised him above all things to study the Holy Scriptures, and to gain a local knowledge of them; counsel which Luther followed with such success as to cause the vicar-general to marvel, and in consequence to prefer his company to that of all others.f
Although, -as we have seen, Luther's father had given a reluctant consent to his son's entrance ii^ito the cloister, it was not until the term of Martin's novitiate was ended, two full years after his flight from the university to the monastery, that the miner could be persuaded to promise to be present at the ceremony which was to snatch his son for ever from the world, and give him wholly to the service of the heavenly King.
At length, however, ho consented to this ^Iso, and a day was selected for the ceremony on which * D'Aiibigne's Hist, of the Eef., Vol. t Meiirer"s Life of Lntlier.
THE LIFE AND TIMES the miner could convenientlj quit his business.
Accordingly on Sunday, the 2d of May, 1507, the elder Luther came to Erfurth, accompanied by several friends, taking with him some twenty florins, savings which he had managed to put by ; and these he gave to the son whom he was about to lose."
On the same day the ceremony of Luther's ordination as a priest occurred.
Brandenburg, ofliciated.
Luther long afterwards thus referred to the occasion " As he instituted me a priest, and placed the chalice in my hand, he spoke these very words
Accipe poiestatem sacrijicanidi pro vivis et mortuis.''\ That the earth did not then swallow us both up, was an instance of the patience and long-suffering of the Lord."
Luther trembled greatly when he ascended the altar; at the canon he was seized with such fear that he would have fled without completing the ceremony, had he not been detained,^:
,At length, however, all was finished, and the young priest sat down with his friends to dinner.
John Luther sat by his son, who had hoped to hear from his father's lips expressions of joy and congratulation.
" My dear father," said he at last, " why are you so sad ? why should you regret my assuming the monk's robe ?
It is a becoming gown, is it not?"
The father rose, and addressing the IMicliclet's Life of Lutlier.
D'Aubign^'s History of the Ecformation.
"Receive the iiower to oflfer sacritice for the living and the dead."
Pfizer's "Luther's Lebftn."
" Is it not written in the word of God that a man should honor his father and his mother ?"
" It is," rephed all.
John Luther looked exj)ressively at his son; then resuming his scat, relapsed into gloomy silence.
The rest began to talk of indifferent matters, when suddenly the miner exclaimed, "Pray heaven this whole ceremony be not a snare of the devil."*
Luther felt at this time no j)eculiar religious fervor.
"When I said my first mass at Erfurth," he remarks, " I was well-nigh dead, for I had no faith.
My only notion about myself was, that I was a very worthy person indeed.
I did not regard myself as a sinner at all.
The first mass was a striking thing, and produced a great deal of money.
They brought in the horas canonicas, surrounded by large flambeaus.
The dear young lord, as the peasants used to call their new pastor, had then to dance with his mother, if she were still alive, the spectators all
Aveeping tears of joy ; if she were dead, he put her, as the phrase ran, under the chalice, and saved her from purgatory,"t
Luther having now taken the irrevocable step, having become a priest—all being accomplished, and the door of the world closed upon him, all exit cut off—fell a prey, not to regret, but to sadness, to perplexities, to temptations of the flesh, to the mischievous shafts and subtleties of Satan.
" "VVc of the present day," says " can tardly comprehend this rude strife of a solitary soul.
* PSzei's "Lnther'sLeben."
THE LIFE AND TIMES keep our passions more in order, or rather, we kill them at the birth.
Amid our enervating distraction of business, of facile studies and enjoyments, our precocious satiety of the senses and of the mind, we can scarcely place ourselves en rapport with the spiritual warfare which the lonely conventuahsts of the middle ages waged with themselves and with the dolorous mysteries of a life of abstinence and fanatic dreamings—the infinite hard fights that have been fought, noiselessly and unrecorded, in the monk's dark, narrow cell."*
In all his doubts and misgivings, Luther found in Dr. Staupitz a wise counsellor and a sympathizing friend.
He had himself fought to some extent the same intellectual battle ; years of trial and suffering had familiarized him with the plenteous mercies of the great Consoler, and he could cry understandingly, "Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."
Religious liberty owes much to Staupitz for his nurture of Luther at this crisis.
Watching with the tenderest solicitude the religious infancy of the young monk, the good vicar taught him also where to look for the benediction which should soothe his troubled heart.
He constantly enjoined upon his young brother to look above the formulas, the ceremonies, and the empty prayers of the church—outside that letter of the law Avhich kills, to th^ Saviour "who taketh away the sins of the world."
* Michelot's Life of Luther.
" When I was a monk," says Luther, " I frequently corresponded with Dr.
Once I wrote to him, 'Oh my sins, my sins, my sins!'
Whereunto he replied, 'You would fain be without sin.
You have no right sin, such as murdering of parents, blaspheming, adultery, and the like.
Tliou hadst better keep a register of right and true sins, that so thou mayest not afflict thyself about small matters.
Christ came hither to pardon our sins."^ Luther did not find peace from this counsel.
Often was he seen at the foot of the altar, his hands clasped, his eyes full of tears raised towards heaven, earnestly beseeching pardon for his sins.
Frequently, on returning to his cell for the night, he would kneel at the foot of his bed, and remain there in prayer till daylight.!'
Sometimes his questions went too deep for Staupitz to answer.
" I often," he' says, Staupitz, and put to him, not trivial matters, but questions going to the very knot of the matter.
He assured me, as all other confessors have assured me, ^ I do not understand'
At last he came to me one day when I was at dinner, and said, ' How is it that you are so sad, brother Martin ?'
' You know not,' said he, 'that such trials are good and necessary for you, but would not be so for any one else.'
All he meant to imply was, that as I had some learning, I might, but for these trials, have become haughty and superPfizcv's "Luther's Lebeu."
THE LIFE AND TIMES cilioiis; but I have felt since that what he said was, as it were, a Toice and an inspiration of the Holy
Meantime these mental struggles wore terribly upon the physique of the agitated monk. One morning, the door of his cell not being opened as usual, the brethren became alarmed.
They knocked; there was no answer.
The door was then burst in, and poor Martin was found stretched on the ground in a kind of ecstasy, scarcely breathing, well-nigh dead.
A monk taking up his flute, played gently upon it one of those airs which Luther loved, and thus brought him gradually back to his senses.t
His trials at one time reduced him to such a state that for a whole fortnight, he assures us, he neither ate, drank, nor slept.
"Ah," he says, "if St. Paul were alive now, how glad I should be to learn of himself what sort of temptation it was that he underwent.
It was not the thorn in the flesh ; it was not the worthy Tliecla, as the Papists dream.
Oh no, it was not a sin that tore his conscience.
It was something higher than despair resulting from the sense of sin ; it was rather the temptation of which the Psalmist speaks
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?' as though the Psalmist would have said, 'Thou art mv enemy without cause ;' and with ' Yet I am innocent, nor is iniquity in me.'
I am sure that the book of Job is a true history, of which a poem * Luther's "Table Talk." f Seckeutlorfs History of Lnthcr.uusm.
G5 was afterwards made.
Jerome and other fatliers never experienced such trials.
They underwent none but trivial temptations, those of the flesh, which indeed have quite enough pains of their own accompanying them.
Augustine, and Ambrose too, had trials, and trembled before the sword ; but this is as nothing compared Avith the angel of Satan, who strikes icith thcj^sts."
"When I was young," he Avrites again, " it happened that I was taking part, in my priest's habit, in a procession on Corpus Christi day, at Eisleben.
All at once the sight of the holy sacrament, borne by Dr. Staupitz, so terrified me, that I perspired at every pore, and thought
I should die with fear.
When the procession was over I confessed to Dr.
Staupitz, and related what had hapjjened to me.
'Thy thoughts are not according to Christ does not terrify; he consoles.'
These words filled me with joy, and were a great relief to my mind."* At another time Luther remarked to Dr. Staupitz, "Ah, m}' dear doctor, our Lord God acts in an awful manner towards us.
Who can serve him, if he thus strikes all around him ?"
To which the vicar replied, " My son, learn to form a better judgment of God.
If he were not to act thus, how could he overcome the headstrong and the wilful?
He must take care of the tall trees, lest they asces^d to heaven."t It was now that the self-righteous citadel of • Lutlier's "Table Talk." f Tischreden, p. 150.