No. 8.-LUTHER.

(Continued.)

On the 6th of January, 1521, the estates of Germany were convened at Worms. Never, perhaps, was a diet more numerously attended, as certainly none was ever called under more exciting circumstances, than this. The whole nation was agitated by the discussion of the principles which Luther had spread. It was a new thing, too, in those days, for any man to defy the authority of the sovereign Pontiff, as Luther had done. And at this diet all the questions which the controversies of the day had raised, were to be discussed and settled. Luther was to be placed on his defence. The partisans of the Papacy, therefore, anticipated the diet with eager expectations of triumph; the followers of Luther, and those who sympathized with him, looked forward to it with something approaching to dismay.

If we could have passed along the roads which led to Worms, during the days preceding that appointed for the opening of the diet, a strange spectacle would have presented itself to us. There was Charles, the emperor, with his splendid retinue of civilians and ecclesiastics; there

were

more

electors, dukes, landgraves, margraves, courtiers, bishops, barons, all with their brilliant trains of retainers and attendants; and there was one man important than all, LUTHER. He had set out almost alone, in ill health, amidst the earnest dissuasions of his friends, but retaining all his heroic calmness, and his resolution to fulfil, at whatever cost, the will of his God and Saviour. "There are so many cardinals and bishops at Worms," said one of his friends to him, "that they will burn you to ashes as they did John Huss." "Though they should make a fire reaching from Worms to Wittenberg, and rising to the sky, I would pass through it in the name of the Lord," was Luther's reply.

As he approached the city, both his friends and his foes were filled with amazement. The former trembled for the consequences; the latter were appalled at the daring

courage of the monk. The friend of his youth commissioned one of his servants to meet him near the city, and to request him not to enter Worms. "Go and tell your master," said Luther, "though there were as many devils in Worms, as there are tiles on the roofs, I would enter it." And he did enter it. Rome had fulminated her heaviest curses against him,-she had commanded all her subjects to withhold their countenance and to banish from every realm, the man who had not only disputed her authority, but had bid defiance to her gigantic power. Yet, here he was, in the presence of her mightiest adherents, willing to investigate her claims, and to expose her false pretensions !

The

Men have never witnessed, perhaps, so august an assembly as that before which Luther was now called to plead. majesty of the greatest empire in the old and in the new world, was summoned by the chief of the Germanic nation. Upwards of two hundred of the highest personages in Church and State sat at the feet of the representative of the Cæsars, whilst a countless throng of learned doctors, civilians, and officers of the state, made up the gorgeous assemblage. As Luther entered the hall in which the diet was held, all eyes were fixed upon him. The silence was broken by an officer calling Luther by name, and proposing two questions to him. Pointing to a pile of books, he said, "Dost thou admit that these books were written by thee?" And, secondly, "Dost thou retract these works and their contents, or dost thou persist in the things thou hast advanced?" To the first question he replied without hesitation, after the titles of the books had been read. To the latter he asked for time to consider his reply. Why ask for time? Both parties were disappointed by the demand. The Romanists triumphed. "He will retract," they shouted, with exultation. "He was bold at a distance, but he quails before the majesty of the empire." But they had mistaken their man. His calmness, they had taken for cowardice; his unmoved purpose, for irresolution. Both found the next day that he had only

reserved his strength that he might inflict a mightier blow. The intervening time was passed in a widely different manner. By the Romanists in feasting at the imperial board, where high expectations were indulged; by Luther in social intercourse with a select few, and in agonising prayer to God.

At four o'clock the next day, Luther stood before the august tribunal. The chancellor renewed the questions of the previous day. Luther rose with calm dignity. The interests of unborn millions were suspended upon that moment. It was the crisis of the world's history. Breathless silence reigned in the assembly. The most varied emotions struggled in the minds of the multitude, as hope or fear gained the ascendency. Luther spoke: first in German, then in Latin, he gave an elaborate reply. He vindicated his writings, but declared his willingness to retract everything which was erroneous, if he were convinced from God's word, that it was so. The diet was confounded. Its varied passions were tumultuously expressed. The building resounded with expressions of discontent, mingled here and there with those of applause. But the stern voice of the chancellor was heard above the tempest, and peace was soon restored. "We demand a more explicit answer," said he, gazing at Luther; "you are not here to cast doubts upon what has been decided by councils. You are called upon to give a clear and explicit answer. Will you or will you not retract ?" "Since you demand an explicit answer, I will give it," said Luther; "I cannot submit my faith either to popes or councils. If I am not convinced by Holy Scripture, I can and will retract nothing." Then looking round upon the whole assembly, knowing that life and death were in the balance, with a spirit of sublime heroism, he said, "HERE I AM: I CAN NO OTHERWISE! GOD HELP ME! AMEN!"

The diet sat fixed in amazement at the reply of the Reformer. There he was alone, in the midst of powerful foes, braving all their fury by his noble conduct, though "he was not alone, because the Father was with him." No wonder that his words have been brought down to us, as words which still, three centuries after their utterance, thrill the souls of us and of all men. But such a reply must, of course, be followed by a conviction. His

condemnation was fixed. In a few days the whole power of Germany was to be invoked against him as a confirmed heretic. He, therefore, took the precaution to leave Worms. Calm and unmoved he left the city, where he had stood up so undauntedly for God and his truth. He must pass through a large forest on his way. He had penetrated the wild, and was approaching a ravine, when five horsemen, armed and masked, rushed upon the defenceless traveller. In a short time the Reformer was removed from his companions and placed upon a horse, and was compelled to plunge into the thickest of the forest with his attendants. The abduction of Luther convulsed Germany. The popular indignation was turned The against Rome with tenfold fury. friends of the Reformation believed him betrayed, and that he had been sacrificed to the implacable malice of the Papal Court. But Luther was safe. They were friendly hands which tore him from his companions. Upon the lofty summit of a mountain rose the strong fortress of the Wartburg. Thither they bore the exhausted hero, and, entering its gloomy archway in the darkness of night, commanded him to throw off his priestly raiment, and then to invest himself in knightly attire. In this seclusion the Reformer continued for about ten months, hidden from his friends, and protected from the mad fury of his foes. The storm burst, but it fell harmlessly upon Luther. His noble conduct at Worms had, indeed, filled the Papacy with shame and rage. Its loudest thunders were heard; and Charles, too, goaded by the cardinal, and influenced by his own mortified ambition, hurled his fiercest anathemas at the devoted head of the monk. But in his mountain fastness Luther laughed at their rage.

The retirement of Luther, at this crisis, may appear a serious evil, but it was not. His seclusion was of immense advantage, not only to himself, but to the world also. Though retired he was not idle. Though snatched from the busy theatre where his life was endangered every moment, still his whole soul was actively employed in advancing the great cause for which he lived. From the sacred volume he breathed all his inspiration. It alone had nerved him for the conflict, cheered him in his moments of sadness, and thrown the gleam of hope and peace upon the darkness of the tomb. He determined to present it to his country.

The individualism of Luther, after this, fails to some extent. His master mind may be seen everywhere in his own nation, but henceforth he takes only a part in consolidating the Reformation. We need

not tell how he married after this,-how he entered on the lists in argument with our own king Henry the Eighth, "of sacred memory," who had attacked him in a volume, and who won the title of Defender of the Faith by his intellectual gladiatorship, -nor how he restrained the violence of his followers, which only broke out after his death. In 1546, came his "time to die." He had for years been yearning almost daily for his dissolution, and longed-no wonder-to be at rest. Trials and difficulties, too, had come upon him. Paltry disputes on matters of form and ceremony he was constantly called on to settle, though he would himself have treated all such questions, as he treated once a complaint

made to him that a follower of his would not preach without a cassock, saying, "Let him have a cassock to preach in: let him have three cassocks if he will." His death at the last was sudden. He had been manifestly weaker for some time; but his departure was not immediately looked for. One night, however, unexpectedly, his friends were called from their beds to see him die. There lay the great man, gasping, and in the last agony. He was able to say little before he died,-how unnecessary when his life had said so much! But some

few words were heard and recorded. "Oh, heavenly Father! eternal and merciful God! thou hast revealed to me thy dear Son, our Lord Jesus Christ,-whom I have preached,-whom I have acknowledged,whom I have loved,-and whom I honour as my dear Saviour and Redeemer,-now take my soul to thee." "Into thy hands I commend my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, O Lord, thou God of truth; for thou, O God, hast loved me much." Then the great heart ceased to beat, and the mighty voice was silent.

Luther was buried in front of his own pulpit at Wittenburg, where his grave may be still seen. Tread softly, reader, if thou passest by it in thy wanderings: it is the grave of one of the greatest of HEROES!*

AUNT MIRIAM ON CONSCIENCE.

A TALE FOR MOTHERS.

"What is conscience? I know how it is defined in the books; but I want a new definition for it, one of yours, aunt Miriam."

Now, my aunt Miriam was a sort of oracle with me. Her high culture, her quiet enthusiasm, and, most of all, her fervent piety, gave a charm and a certain gentle authority to everything she uttered. She had been in days past a most devoted mother, and the mystery that hung over the fate of her only child, gave to her character a silent intensity which, quickened sometimes into a kind of inspiration, set off, while it beautifully harmonized