THE REFORMATION IN EUROPE
IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.
VOL. VIII.

NOW COMPLETED.

D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation, in the Sixteenth Century. 5 vols. 6.00

D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin. 8 vols. 16.00

'D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation is in all respects one of the grandest literary and historical works of this or any age. The author's brilliant genius imparted to its pages all the fascination of a romance, while his research, study, and sound judgment have invested it with an authority that has stood the test, in its most important parts, of more than a quarter of a century's criticism.'—N. Y. Observer.

'Thirty years have now passed since we read in our student days the first three volumes which the Carters had just brought in an American dress. The name of D'Aubigné was soon on every tongue. The same clear, forcible style characterizes this latest volume, albeit maturer and richer, the same love for the Gospel, and the same grasp of the truth of history. The new generation, in whose presence Rome is demanding, that the world shall move backward three hundred and fifty years, may do well to study the volumes of this author.'—North Christian Advocate.

'D'Aubigné is a clear, incisive writer, and all of his assertions are supported with copious notes that make the work invaluable for controversial purposes. As a simple, historical narrative it is unequalled.'—Chronicle.

'Many of our readers will remember the real pleasure and profit with which they read the History of the Reformation as it first appeared from the pen of Dr. D'Aubigné. He had a new style, making every scene and character so lifelike and striking as to impress the great points upon the mind, and impress the reader for life.'—Christian Instructor.

'There is a fascination about D'Aubigné's style that has given to his work an uncommon popularity. While he is master of the art of expression, he has entered so fully into the spirit of the great struggle he records, and has so completely identified himself with the efforts and aims of its heroic leaders, as to add to the narrative of the historian, the enthusiasm of a chief actor in the scene.'—Episcopal Methodist.

'Dr. Merle d'Aubigné has earned the first place among the French historians of the Reformation.'—Prof. Bonifas.

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

New York.

HISTORY
OF THE
Reformation in Europe
IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

BY THE

REV. J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNÉ, D.D.

TRANSLATED BY

WILLIAM L. R. CATES,

JOINT AUTHOR OF WOODWARD AND CATES'S 'ENCYCLOPÆDIA OF CHRONOLOGY,' EDITOR OF 'THE DICTIONARY OF GENERAL BIOGRAPHY,' ETC.

'Les choses de petite durée ont coutume de devenir fanées, quand elles ont passé leur temps.

'Au règne de Christ, il n'y a que le nouvel homme qui soit florissant, qui ait de la vigueur, et dont il faille faire cas.'

Calvin.

VOL. VIII.

HUNGARY, POLAND, BOHEMIA. NETHERLANDS. GENEVA. DENMARK, SWEDEN, NORWAY.

NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

530 Broadway.

1879.

CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF
JOHN WILSON AND SON.

ST. JOHNLAND
STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
SUFFOLK CO., N. Y.

PREFACE.

With this volume we complete the publication of the work of M. Merle d'Aubigné on the history of the Reformation. The ten volumes published by the author himself and the three posthumous volumes are the fruit of his long labors, begun in 1817, and continued almost uninterruptedly until 1872.

It was in 1817, immediately after his ordination to the ministry, and in the course of a visit to Germany undertaken to perfect his theological studies, that M. Merle d'Aubigné conceived the project of writing this history. Germany was at that time celebrating at Eisenach the third centenary of the Reformation. The people were in a state of great excitement. Humiliated by long-continued oppression and irritated by severe suffering, Germany, which had so long been the theatre and the victim of the sanguinary wars of the Empire, had at length risen with an impetuous energy and a fervor of feeling which were irresistible, and had powerfully contributed to the overthrow of the imperial warrior who had appeared to be invincible. Rescued thus from foreign rule, she had fallen again under the equally heavy yoke of her former masters; and she was now turning her eyes towards Luther, the spiritual liberator of modern times. The reformer's name was on every tongue; and Merle d'Aubigné encountered on his way the crowds of young German students who were journeying to the Wartburg. On the eve of the celebration he felt an overpowering desire to take part in it. He therefore followed the throng, and after travelling all night came at daybreak within sight of the castle famous as the scene of Luther's confinement. A novel spectacle here presented itself. The squares and streets of Eisenach were filled with a motley crowd, chiefly composed of young men. Their long hair falling upon their shoulders, their thick, untrimmed beards, their velvet cloaks reaching to the knees, their caps adorned with feathers or foliage, their broad embroidered collars, their banner proudly borne aloft, surrounded by its defenders who, with outstretched arms and drawn swords, formed its bodyguard, the name of Luther the while resounding in all directions—this spectacle, the antique costumes, the usages of a by-gone age, all contributed to transport the traveller in imagination into the midst of the scenes of three centuries ago.

The young Genevese, however, soon withdrew from these noisy scenes, from the political and social harangues, the excitement and the tumult. Longing for quiet, he traversed with a guide the deserted rooms of the castle.

'This then,' he murmured, 'this is the place where, after the stormy scenes of the Diet of Worms, Luther was able to say, "At last I am at rest." Here was passed the captivity of the knight George. This is the table at which he used to sit; that the window from which he looked out upon the landscape around. Here it was that he gave himself up to profound meditation, mingled with regret that he had consented to withdraw from the battle-field, and with a distressing fear lest the Pope should take advantage of his absence to crush the infant Church. In this room he used to read the Bible in Hebrew and in Greek; here he translated the Psalms and the New Testament, and here his fervent prayers rose to heaven.'[1] The great movement of the sixteenth century thus presented itself to the young man's imagination in its intimate details, which are far more thrilling than its external aspects. He formed the resolution to write its history; and a few weeks later (November 23, 1817) he sketched in the following terms the plan which he proposed to follow:—

'I should like to write a history of the Reformation. I should wish this history to be a work of learning, and to set forth facts at present unknown. It should be profound, and should distinctly assign the causes and the results of this great movement; it should be interesting, and should make known the authors of the transformation by means of their letters, their works, and their words; and it should introduce the reader into the bosom of their families and into their closets. Finally I should wish that this history should be thoroughly Christian, and calculated to give an impulse to true religion. I would show by the evidence of facts that the aim of the Reformation was not so much to destroy as to build up—not so much to overthrow that which was in excess, superstition, as to impart that which had ceased to exist, the new life, and holiness, the essence of Christianity, and to revive or rather to create faith. I shall begin to collect materials, and I will dedicate my history to the Protestant churches of France.'[2]

Thus, in his youthful dreams, did the pious descendant of the refugees of the sixteenth century sketch out the leading features of the monumental work, to the execution of which he thenceforward uninterruptedly devoted himself. At this day when, by means of many collections, innumerable documents relating to the Reformation have been placed within the reach of all, it is not easy to imagine the amount of labor and research which it cost Merle d'Aubigné to enter as he did into intimacy with the reformers and to master their most secret thoughts. Eighteen years had passed away before he was prepared, in 1835, to present to the public the first volume of his work.

In a preface worthy of the subject, he said:—'It is not the history of a party that I purpose writing; but the history of one of the greatest revolutions that was ever wrought in the condition of the human race; the history of a mighty impulse imparted to the world three centuries ago, the results of which are still universally recognized. The history of the Reformation is not identical with the history of Protestantism. In the former every thing bears the impress of a regeneration of humanity, of a social and religious transformation which has its source in God; while in the latter we too frequently observe a considerable falling away from first principles, the action of party spirit, sectarian tendencies, and the stamp of petty personalities. The history of Protestantism might possess interest for Protestants alone; the history of the Reformation is for all Christians, nay, rather for all men.'

We are thus made acquainted by the author's own statement with the purpose which he had conceived; and it is for the reader to judge how far that purpose has been accomplished. This judgment has indeed been already pronounced. It declares that the work of Merle d'Aubigné, everywhere learned and accurate, animated and attractive, approaches in some passages the very perfection of literary art. Amongst these passages are the pleasant and lively pages in the first volumes devoted to the youth of Luther, and in the posthumous volumes the chapters of a more serious and severe character devoted to Calvin and his work at Geneva.

Little is wanting to the completion of the monument erected by Merle d'Aubigné. It is to be regretted that we can not follow John Knox in Scotland, or Marnix in the Netherlands, to the full accomplishment of their work. In these countries the temple door is closed before us just as our feet are pressing the threshold. To complete his history the author would have required two more years of life and of labor; and this was denied him. Every thing, however, that is essential to the history of the Reformation is narrated in these thirteen volumes.

Those portions of the work which have been most recently published are not in all cases the latest written. Some of them were written long ago and have never been retouched. It is not to be supposed that the author would have published these without alteration. M. Merle d'Aubigné's method of procedure in composition was as follows:—First, he would make a summary study of an important period, and rapidly sketch its history; next, he would refer to the original sources, collecting around him all the documents which he could discover, and sometimes making a long journey for the purpose of consulting a manuscript preserved in some library. He would then plunge again into his theme, familiarizing himself thoroughly with its form and its color, so as to make it real and present to his mind, and see it as it were with his own eyes. And, finally, he would rewrite the story, completing and giving life to his narratives, and depicting the scenes for the reader as he had already done for himself. The result of this process was an entirely new work.

A third and even a fourth recasting was not seldom undertaken before the author was satisfied: so vast and so complex was that spiritual movement which he had undertaken to describe, so numerous and almost inexhaustible were the documents of all kinds which he continued to examine throughout his life.

Some of the later chapters, and particularly that which relates to Germany, had not been subjected to this revision. The editor, however, has not felt himself at liberty to suppress these chapters, both on account of their intrinsic value, and because they contain information not accessible to general readers. We hope that they will be read with interest and profit.

The editor wishes here to express his thanks to Mr. Cates for his valuable assistance as translator of the last three volumes of the work into English.

The editor has now fulfilled what he considers a duty to the Christian public, by presenting to them this last volume of a work the composition of which was not only the principal occupation, but also the principal enjoyment of 'the noble life, consecrated to toil,'[3] of J. H. Merle d'Aubigné.

NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR.

This closing volume of the 'History of the Reformation' is enriched with a fac-simile of the famous Indulgence issued by Pope Leo X., the sale of which by Tetzel in Germany, in 1517, provoked the bold and memorable denunciation of the traffic by Luther in the ninety-five theses which he affixed to the church door of Wittenberg. The fac-simile is taken from a copy of the Indulgence very recently acquired by the Trustees of the British Museum. So far as is known, no fac-simile has been published before, nor has any previously printed copy possessed the merit of complete accuracy. It has therefore been thought worth while to place an absolutely exact reproduction of so important an historical document within reach of the readers of Merle d'Aubigné's work, although, by the accident of its recent acquisition, it can only appear in the last instead of the first volume, its most appropriate place.

At the request of the publishers an interesting statement has been contributed illustrative of one passage in the Bull of Indulgence hitherto somewhat obscure but of remarkable significance. (See Appendix.)

A General Index to the eight volumes of this series—The Reformation in the Time of Calvin—has been specially prepared by the Translator for the English Edition; and it is hoped that this Index will be found sufficiently copious, detailed, and accurate.

CONTENTS

OF

THE EIGHTH VOLUME.

HISTORY

OF THE

REFORMATION IN EUROPE

IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

BOOK XIV.
THE SPANISH MARTYRS.

CHAPTER I.

THE AWAKENING IN SPAIN.

(1520-1535.)

The Church of Spain had long preserved its independence with regard to the papacy. It was at the time of the ambitious and monopolizing Hildebrand that it began to lose it.

At the period of the Reformation it had been subject to the pope for more than four hundred years, and great obstacles were opposed to its deliverance. The mass of the people were given to superstition; the Spanish character was resolute to the degree of obstinacy; the clergy reigned supreme; the Inquisition had just been armed with new terrors by Ferdinand and Isabella; and the peninsular situation of the country seemed inevitably to isolate it from those lands in which the Reformation was triumphant.

Nevertheless many minds were, up to a certain point, prepared for evangelical reform. In almost every class the Inquisition excited the liveliest discontent. Towards the close of the fifteenth century, a man was often to be met with traversing Spain, surrounded by a guard of fifty mounted attendants and two hundred foot-soldiers. This man, whose name was Torquemada, was the terror of the people; and consequently in his progresses he displayed the greatest distrust, imagining that every one was bent on assassinating him. On his arrival at any place, when he sat down to table, he trembled lest the dishes brought to him should have been poisoned. For this reason, before partaking of any food, he used to place before him the horn of a unicorn, to which he attributed the virtue of discovering and even of neutralizing poisons. Universal hatred accompanied him to the tomb. Torquemada, the first inquisitor-general, caused eight thousand persons to be put to death, and a hundred thousand to be imprisoned and despoiled of their goods. Whole provinces rose against this horrible tribunal.[4] 'They steal, they kill, they outrage,' wrote the chevalier de Cordova, Gonzalo de Ayora, speaking of the inquisitors to the first secretary of King Ferdinand. 'They care neither for justice nor for God himself.'[5] 'O unhappy Spain!' cried Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, councillor for the Indies, in his distress. 'Mother of so many heroes, how this horrible scourge dishonors thee!'[6]

Meanwhile the universities were being enlightened. Various writings, especially those of Erasmus, were much read; and while doctors and students learned to scrutinize more closely the state of the Church, a spirit of inquiry began to penetrate those ancient institutions. There were, besides, scattered here and there in the towns and in country places, some Christians, called Alumbrados, who sought after an inward light and applied themselves to secret prayer. These pious Mystics were better prepared to receive divine truth.[7]

THE AWAKENING IN SPAIN.

More than this, political circumstances were favorable to the introduction of the Reformation. Spain was at this time under the same sceptre as Germany and the Netherlands, and the rays of light emanating from the Scriptures could not but reach it. The emperor Charles the Fifth, who was fighting against the Reformation in Germany, was to be the means of bringing it into the country of his very Catholic ancestors. The young Alfonso Valdès, his secretary, who was with him at Brussels in 1520, and afterwards at Worms in 1521, was at first struck with horror at seeing the boldness with which Luther attacked the authority of the pope. But what he saw and heard led him gradually to comprehend the necessity for Reformation. Consequently, when writing from Brussels and Worms to his friend Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, Valdès sorrowfully exclaimed, 'While the pontiff shuts his eyes and desires to see Luther devoured by the flames, the whole Christian community is near its ruin, unless God save it.'[8]

Books more dangerous to Rome than those of Erasmus reached Spain. A printer of Basel, the very year in which Charles was elected emperor (1519), packed up carefully for transport beyond the Pyrenees some precious merchandise not yet prohibited in the peninsula, because as yet unknown there. It consisted of various Latin works of Luther.[9] In 1520 the 'Commentary on the Galatians,' and afterwards other writings of the reformer, were translated into Spanish.[10] The union existing between Spain and the Netherlands had led many Spaniards to settle in the latter country, and it may possibly have been one of these who translated them. It is at least certain that they were printed at Antwerp, and that merchant vessels carried them thence into Spain.

Many noble minds were stirred up and became attentive to what was passing in Germany. Francis de Angelis, provincial of the Order of the Angeli, who had been present at the coronation of the emperor, was still more enlightened than Valdès himself. Being sent back to Spain after the Diet of Worms upon an important mission, he stopped at Basel. There he visited Pellican, and in a conversation which he had with him he showed himself almost in agreement with Luther.[11] All these circumstances arousing the attention of Rome, Leo X. sent (March 20, 1521) two briefs to Spain to demand that the introduction of the books of the German reformer and his partisans into that country should be checked; and Adrian VI., the successor of Leo, called upon the government to assist the Inquisition in the accomplishment of this duty.[12]

But in Spain itself evangelical truth was then preached with earnestness, though not with the fulness, clearness, and purity of the reformers. There was in Andalusia a young priest who from about 1525 preached with extraordinary power. His name was John d'Avila. 'The fervor,' says one of his biographers, 'with which he exerted himself to sow the heavenly seed of the Word of God in the hearts of men was almost incredible.'[13] He strove both to convert souls estranged from God, and to lead those who were converted to go forward courageously in the service of God. He employed no more time in the composition of his morning addresses than he did in delivering them. A long preparation would in his case have been impossible, on account of the numerous engagements which his charity drew upon him from all quarters. 'The Holy Spirit enlightened him with his light and spoke by his mouth; so that he was obliged to be careful not to extend his discourses too much, so abundant was the source from which they flowed.'

JOHN D'AVILA.

Seeing the great number of souls converted by his word, the question was asked, what was the chief source of his power? Is it, they said, the force of the doctrine, or the fervor of his charity, or the tenderness of his fatherly kindness, joined to ineffable humility and gentleness? He has himself decided this important point, and answered the inquiry. A preacher, struck by D'Avila's success, and desiring the like for himself, begged him for some advice on preaching, and on the way to render it efficacious. 'I know no better way,' he replied, 'than to love Jesus Christ.' This is the true science of homiletics.

Jesus Christ and his love was indeed the strength of his eloquence. It was by setting before sinners a dying Jesus that he called them to repentance. 'We, Lord,' he cried, 'have transgressed, and thou bearest the punishment! Our crimes have loaded thee with all kinds of shame, and have caused thee to die upon the cross! Oh! what sinner would not at this sight lament over his sins!'[14] But D'Avila pointed out at the same time in this death a means of salvation. 'They bind him with cords,' he said; 'they buffet him; they crown him with thorns; they nail him on the cross, and he suffers death thereon. If he is thus treated it is because he loved you, and would wash away your sins in his own blood! O Jesus, my Saviour, thou wast not content with these outward sufferings; it has pleased thee to endure also inward pain far surpassing them. Thou hast submitted to the stern decree of thy Father's justice; thou hast taken upon thee all the sins of the world. O Lamb of God, thou hast borne the burden alone; thou hast sufficed thereto, and hast obtained for us redemption by thy death. We have been made the righteousness of God in thee, and the Father loves us in his well-beloved Son. Let us not be afraid of praising him too much for the entire blotting out of our sins, the privilege bestowed by God on those whom he justifies by the merits of Jesus Christ. This exalts the greatness of those merits which have procured them so much blessedness, although they were so unworthy of it. O Lord, be glorified forever for this.'[15]

Nevertheless, John d'Avila, while he recognized the necessity of justification by the death of Christ, had a less distinct conception of it than the reformers, and gave it a less prominent place in his teaching than they did. It was on its efficacy for sanctification that he especially dwelt. He committed indeed the error of placing love in the chapter of justification, instead of placing it, like the reformers, in that of sanctification, which is its true place. But he could not too much insist on the transformation which must be wrought in the character and life of the Christian. 'What,' he cried, 'is it conceivable that Jesus Christ should wash, purify, and sanctify our souls with his own blood, and that they should still remain unrighteous, defiled, impure?' ... He sometimes employed strange figures to inculcate the necessity of this work. 'A creature having but the head of a man,' he said, 'all the rest of its body being that of a beast, would be considered a horrible monster. It would be no less monstrous, in the sphere of grace, that God who is righteousness and purity itself should have for his members unrighteous, defiled, and corrupt men.'[16]

D'Avila labored not only by his discourses, but likewise by his conversations and letters in promoting the kingdom of God in the souls of men. He was benevolence itself. He consoled the afflicted, encouraged the timid, aroused the cowardly, stirred up the lukewarm, fortified the weak, sustained those who were tempted, sought to raise up sinners after their falls, and humbled the proud. His letters are mostly far superior to those of Fénélon. They are at least much more evangelical.[17] 'I tell you this,' he wrote to some friends in affliction, 'only in order to assure you that Jesus Christ loves you. Ought not these words, that a God loves us, to fill with joy such poor creatures as we are?'[18] 'Read the sacred writings,' said he in another letter to those who wished for instruction, 'but remember that if he who has the key of knowledge, and who alone can open the book, does not give the power to comprehend, you will never understand it.'[19]

ST. THERESA.

D'Avila possessed the gift of discernment. He did not, indeed, entirely escape the influence of the period and of the country in which he lived; but we find him exposing the pretended revelations of Madeline de la Croix, who deceived so many, and undertaking the defence of the pious Theresa de Cepedre, when persecuted by the Inquisition. Theresa, born at Avila in 1515, of a noble family, had so much zeal even in her childhood that she one day quitted her father's house with her brother to go and seek martyrdom amongst the Moors. A relative met the two children and took them back. She was from that time divided between the love of the world and the love of God, throwing herself alternately into dissipation and into the monastic life. This woman, the famous St. Theresa, was one of those ardent spirits who rush by turns to the two extremes. Happily she met with D'Avila, whose judgment was more mature than her own, received his instructions, and, by his means, became confirmed in spiritual life. Her writings, full of piety, and even attractive in style, were translated by the Jansenists, like those of D'Avila.[20] He was the friend and director to a poor soldier, who, having been discharged in 1536, was converted, and turned his house into an hospital, for which he provided by the work of his own hands, and thus became founder of the Order of Charity. D'Avila gave to this charitable Christian, who was called John de Dieu, the wisest counsels, the sum of which was, 'Die rather than be unfaithful to so good a Master.'

One day a young girl, named Sancha de Carile, daughter of a señor of Cordova, was preparing to go to court, where she had just been appointed maid of honor to the queen. She wished first to have a conversation with John d'Avila, and was so touched by his words that she thenceforth abandoned the court and the world. Instead, however, of entering a convent, she remained in her father's house, and there devoted herself till death to the service of Jesus Christ, whom she had found as her Saviour.[21] It was for Sancha de Carile that D'Avila composed his principal work, entitled Audi, filia, et vide ('Hearken, O daughter, and consider'[22]), Ps. xlv. 10. D'Avila did not side with the doctors and disciples of the Reformation, who were continually increasing in number in Germany. He differed from them, indeed, on several points, but on others approached them so nearly that his preaching could not but prepare men's minds to receive the fulness of evangelical doctrine. The Inquisition understood this.[23]

AN EXAMINATION.

The period which elapsed between 1520 and 1535 was an epoch which prepared the way for reformation in Spain. In the universities, in the towns, and in country places many minds were silently inclining towards a better doctrine. The Reformation was then like fire smouldering under the ashes, but was to manifest itself later in many a noble heart. Nevertheless, from time to time the flame became visible. A peasant, a simple man without any culture whatever, who had busied himself only about his fields, had by some means received Christian convictions.[24] One day, when in company with some relations and friends, he exclaimed, 'It is Christ who, with his own blood, daily washes and purifies from their sins those who belong to him, and there is no other purgatory.' It seems that the poor man had only repeated a saying which he had heard in some meeting, and which had pleased him, without being penetrated by the truth which he had expressed. When, therefore, he was cited before the inquisitors of the faith, he said, 'I have certainly held that opinion, but, since it displeases your reverences, I willingly retract it.' This did not satisfy the priests. They heaped reproaches upon him. 'They may have feared,' says the author of the Artifices of the Spanish Inquisition, 'that their inquisitive faculties would stagnate and rot unless they set about finding some knavery in the man, thus pretending to find knots in a bulrush—nodus in scirpo.' 'You have asserted that there is no purgatory. Ergo you believe that the pope is mistaken—that the councils are mistaken—and that man is justified by faith alone.' In short, they unfolded before him all the doctrines which they called heresies, and charged the unfortunate man with them as if he had actually professed them. The poor peasant protested; he confidently maintained that he did not even know what these doctrines meant. But they insisted on their charge, and showed him the close connection which subsists between all these dogmas. The poor man had been deprived of the ordinary means of instruction; but these priests, who were more opposed to the Gospel than water is to fire, says the narrator, taught and enlightened him. Those who boasted themselves to be the great extirpators of the truth became its propagators. The peasant of whom we speak thus attained to the fulness of the faith which hitherto had only just dawned upon him. It was a striking example of the wonderful way in which Divine Goodness sometimes calls its chosen ones. There were many other such instances.'[25]

RODRIGO DE VALERIO.

The chief reformer of Spain was to spring from a higher class. He was born in Andalusia, the Baetica which in the eyes of the ancients was the fairest and happiest of all the countries in the world. Near rocky mountains, on a vast plain of picturesque and solemn aspect, lies Lebrixa, an ancient town about ten leagues from Seville on the Cadiz side. Here lived Rodrigo de Valerio, a young man of a rich and distinguished family. He had, in common with the Andalusians, great quickness of apprehension; fancy sparkled in his speech, and his temperament was very cheerful. Like them, he was distinguished by his love of pleasure, and it was his glory to surpass in its indulgence all the young men with whom he associated. He generally lived at Seville, a town called by the Romans 'little Rome' (Romula), which had long been a centre of intelligence, and where the Alcazar and other monuments recalled the magnificence of the Moorish kings. Rodrigo had received a liberal education, and had learned a little Latin; but this had been speedily forgotten amidst the diversions of youth. There was not a hunt nor a game at which he was not present. He was to be seen arriving at the rendezvous mounted on a superb horse, richly equipped, and himself magnificently attired.[26] Easy and skilful in bodily exercises, he carried away every prize. Full of grace and elegance, he succeeded in winning the favor of fair ladies. His delight was to mount the wildest horse, to scale the rocks, to dance with light foot, to hunt with horn and hound, to draw the cross-bow or shoot with the arquebus, and to be the leader of fashionable young men in every party and at every festival.

All at once Valerio disappeared from society. He was sought at the games, in the dance, at the races, but was nowhere to be found. Every one was asking what had become of him. He had abandoned every thing. The pleasures of the world had oppressed and wearied him, and he had found all void and bitterness. What! thought he, play the lute, make one's horse caper, sing, dance ... and forget what it is to be a man! A voice had cried in his heart that God was all in all. He had yielded to no human influence; God alone had touched him by his Spirit.[27] The change was for this reason all the more remarkable. The lively affections of his heart, which had hitherto rushed like a tempestuous torrent downwards towards the world, now rose with the same energy towards heaven. 'A divine passion,' says a contemporary, 'suddenly seized him.[28] Casting off his old inclinations, and despising human judgment, he applied his whole strength, both of mind and body, so zealously to the pursuit of piety, that no worldly affection seemed to be left in him.' If Rodrigo had then retired to a convent, all would have been en règle, and every one would have admired him; but no one could understand why, while renouncing pleasure, he did not immediately shut himself up in one of those human sanctuaries to which alone the world at that time gave the patent of a devout life. Some, indeed, of the remarks made on him were very natural. He had passed from one extreme to the other, and in his first fervor he exposed himself to the ridicule of his old companions. The young man who had hitherto been remarkable for the delicacy of his manners, the elegance of his discourse, and the splendor of his dress, displayed now a somewhat repulsive roughness and negligence.[29] Sincere and upright, but as yet unenlightened, unacquainted indeed with any other pious life than that of ascetics, it is not astonishing that he threw himself at first into an exaggerated asceticism. He thought that he should thus renounce the world more completely and make a more perfect sacrifice to the Lord. He has lost his head, said some; he is drunk, said others. But on closer observation the true fear of God was to be seen in him, a sincere repentance for the vanity of his life, an ardent thirst for righteousness, and an indefatigable zeal in acquiring all the characteristics of true piety. But one thing above all occupied his mind. We have seen that he had learned Latin. This knowledge, which he had despised, now became of the greatest service to him. It was only in this language that the sacred writings could be read; he studied them day and night;[30] by means of hard toil he fixed them in his memory, and he had an admirable gift for applying the words of Scripture with correctness and promptitude. He endeavored to regulate his whole conduct by their teaching; and people perceived in him the presence of the Spirit by whom they were dictated.

Valerio became one of the apostles of the doctrines of Luther and the other reformers.[31] 'It was not in their own writings that he had learned these. He had derived them directly from the Holy Scriptures. Those sacred books, which, according to some, are the source of such various doctrines, then produced in every country of Christendom the same faith and the same life.' He soon began to diffuse around him the light he had received. People were astonished at hearing this young layman, who had recently made one of every party of pleasure, speaking with so much fervor. 'From whom do you hold your commission?' asked some one. 'From God himself,' replied he, 'who enlightens us with his Holy Spirit, and does not consider whether his messenger is a priest or a monk.'

JOHN DE VERGARA.

Valerio was not the only one to awaken from sleep. A literary movement in the path opened by Erasmus had, as we have already said, prepared the way of the Gospel in Spain. One of its chiefs was John de Vergara, canon of Toledo, who had been secretary to Cardinal Ximenes. An accomplished Greek and Hebrew scholar, he had pointed out some errors in the Vulgate; and he was one of the editors of the Polyglot of Alcala. 'With what pleasure do I learn,' wrote the scholar of Rotterdam to him in 1527, 'that the study of languages and of literature is flourishing in that Spain which was of old the fruitful mother of the greatest geniuses.' John de Vergara had a brother named Francis, a professor of Greek literature at Complutum (the present Alcala de Henares). Alcala, near Madrid, the seat of the foremost university in the kingdom next to Salamanca, was at this epoch a centre of intelligence, and had acquired a European renown. A breath of freedom and life seemed to have passed over it. John and Francis, with another Spaniard, Bernardin de Tobar, apparently their brother, put forth their united efforts to revive the pursuit of literature in their native land, and kindled bright hopes in the breast of the prince of the schools. Calling to mind, as was his wont, the stories of ancient times, Erasmus compared these three friends of letters to Geryon, king of the Balearic Islands, the most powerful of men, of whom the poets had made a giant with three bodies. 'Spain,' said he, 'has once more its Geryon, with three bodies but one spirit, and the happiest anticipations are excited in our minds.'[32] The modern Geryon, however, failed to win the honor of the triumph promised by Erasmus. In the Inquisition he met the Hercules who vanquished him. These eminent men had found their way through the love of learning to the love of the Gospel; and John had carried his audacity to such a pitch that he aimed at correcting the Vulgate. Hereupon certain monks who knew nothing of Latin beyond the jargon of the schools raised the alarm. John and Tobar were arrested by the inquisitors of Toledo, cast into a dungeon, and called upon to renounce the heresies of Luther. This charge they had not at all anticipated. It was not by the reformer, but by his opponent, Erasmus, that they had been attracted to the Holy Scriptures. Being as yet weak in faith, they thought they might declare themselves unacquainted with Lutheranism; and they were released. Certain penances, however, were imposed on them, and they were placed under the surveillance of the Inquisition?[33]

At this time, between 1530 and 1540, a great theological controversy was being carried on in the university of Alcala. One of the champions was Matthew Pascual, a doctor distinguished for his acquirements in learning—he was master of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—for his love of letters, of the Holy Scriptures, and of a doctrine more pure than that of the monks. The discussion had become animated; and the opponent of Pascual, in the heat of the conflict, exclaimed—'If the case be as Doctor Matthew maintains, it would follow that there would be no purgatory!' Pascual had probably said with St. John that the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. He replied simply—'What then? (Quid tum?)' The monks were all agitated at these words. 'He said Quid tum! He denies purgatory.' He was forthwith committed to the prison of the holy fathers,[34] from which he was not liberated till long afterwards, and then with the loss of all his property. He then left Spain. Two monosyllables had cost him dear.

PETER DE LERMA.

There was resident at Alcala at this time a man who far surpassed the Vergaras and the Pascuals, and whose judgments were universally accepted in Spain as oracles.[35] This was Peter de Lerma, abbot of Alcala, canon, professor of theology, and chancellor of the university, skilled in the oriental languages, which he had studied in Paris, and well versed in Scholastic theology. He was highly esteemed throughout the whole Peninsula. He was consulted on the greatest affairs of state; and many had recourse to him as to a touch-stone which at once indicated to them what was good and what was evil. As he was wealthy and belonged to a noble family of Burgos, he had great influence. From an early age he gave himself up to the reading of the Holy Scriptures, convinced that without them it was impossible to attain any real knowledge of holy things. At an advanced age he read the works of Erasmus. His mind was enlightened by them; and he acknowledged that the studies pursued at the universities served only for vain display. A new form was given to his activity, and his words were henceforth remarkable for their freedom, their simplicity, and their vigor. 'Draw,' said he, 'from the oldest sources; do not take up opinions upon the sole authority of any masters, however solid they may be.' Words like these were altogether new in the Catholic churches. Peter de Lerma was a kindly old man, now aged about seventy. The monks, regardless of his age, his attainments, or the authority which he enjoyed, had him cast into prison by their agents. His opponents attacked him in private conferences. But the aged doctor, finding that the best reasons were of no avail with his enemies, that they refused to listen to the truth, and had no regard for innocence, declared that he would hold no more discussion with Spaniards, and required them to summon learned men of other lands, capable of understanding the evidence laid before them. To the inquisitors this seemed to be horrible blasphemy. 'Would it not be said,' they exclaimed, 'that the holy fathers of the Inquisition may be in error, and that they are unable to comprehend a hundred others better than you?' They assailed him with insults, they plagued him in the prison, they threatened him with torture. The poor old man at last, enfeebled by age and by persecution, and not yet sufficiently established in the faith, as was usually the case with the converts of Erasmus, complied with the demands of his persecutors. He then withdrew to Burgos, his native place. Melancholy weighed him down. The energies of his soul were crushed. His hopes for the future of his people had vanished. He bowed down his head and suffered. Informed ere long that it was intended to arrest him, he fled to Flanders; then went to Paris, where he died dean of the Sorbonne, and professor of theology in that university.

The preaching of the old man was not fruitless in Spain. Like John d'Avila and others, he was one of those Spanish evangelicals who did not make use of Luther's name, but asserted that they preached simply the primitive doctrines of the Apostles. This came to much the same thing. The tint was only a little softened and less powerful.

ARREST OF JOHN D'AVILA.

Louis of Cadena, one of his nephews, had succeeded him as chancellor of the university of Alcala. By his elegant Latinity, and his acquaintance with Hebrew, Arabic, and Greek, he acquired great reputation among men of letters. Convinced that if Spain were ever to become great, it was necessary to give her an impulse towards light and liberty, he undertook, notwithstanding the fate of his uncle, to bring to an end the reign of Scholasticism. Information was laid against him, as one suspected of Lutheranism, before the Inquisition at Toledo; and he was compelled to fly in order to escape the dungeons of the holy office. The Inquisition in those days lost no opportunity of putting an extinguisher over any light divinely kindled in Spain, of suppressing thought and checking its progress.[36] Louis betook himself likewise to Paris, where, like his uncle, he restrained his zeal to avoid exposure to fresh persecutions.[37]

John d'Avila himself, the apostle of Andalusia, whose only thought was the conversion of souls, and who did not meddle with controversies, found that the monks, enraged and provoked by his refusal to engage in disputation, denounced him to the Inquisition as a Lutheran or alumbrado. In 1534, an inauspicious year for evangelical Spain, this humble pastor was arrested at Seville, and cast into the prisons of the holy office. But his enemies, impelled by blind hatred, had not even informed the archbishop of Seville, Don Alfonso de Manrique, who was at this time Grand Inquisitor. The prelate, who cherished the highest esteem for John d'Avila, was affected on hearing what his subordinates had just done. He pointed out that this man was no Lutheran, but was only seeking to do good to the souls of men. D'Avila was consequently acquitted, and he continued quietly to preach the Gospel till his death. The inquisitors, by fastening the name 'Lutheran' on every thing pious, rendered indirect homage to Lutheranism.[38]

ALFONSO VIRVES.

Manrique was not alone in occasional opposition to the fanaticism of the inquisitors. Charles the Fifth himself, although strongly opposed to every thing which appeared to him heresy, seems to have had some relish for solid preaching. His fine understanding preferred it to the fables of the monks. He had for his chaplain a Dominican monk named Alfonso Virves, an accomplished orientalist and a good theologian. Charles took him with him when he travelled in Germany; and he not only liked to hear him preach, but also associated with him in his numerous journeyings with a certain degree of intimacy. After his return to Spain, the emperor would hear no other preacher. Certain monks who coveted the privilege of preaching before the emperor were filled with envy and hatred. They inveighed against Virves. In vain he contended, according to the dictates of his conscience, for what he believed to be true piety; these wretches uttered shameless calumnies against him, and obvious falsehoods, and resorted to malicious intrigues. This was their usual method.[39] Virves esteemed the fine genius of Erasmus, but censured him for his too great freedom. He asserted that his wish was to secure Spain against Lutheranism. But he had seen in Germany the leading reformers, had enjoyed friendly intercourse with them, and declared that he renounced the attempt to recall them from their errors.[40] This was ground enough for a prosecution; and without any regard to the wish of the emperor, the inquisitors arrested his chaplain, threw him into the prison of the Holy Office at Seville, and in eager haste prepared to sacrifice him. The news of their proceedings reaching Charles the Fifth, he was astonished and indignant. He was better acquainted with Virves than the inquisitors were. He determined by energetic action to foil the conspiracies of the monks. He felt confident that Virves was the victim of an intrigue. He even banished Manrique, the inquisitor-general, who was compelled to retire to his diocese, and died there. Charles did more than this. He addressed to the Holy Office, July 18, 1534, an ordinance prohibiting the arrest of a monk before laying the evidence before the council and awaiting its orders. But the emperor, all-powerful as he was, was not powerful enough to snatch a victim from the Inquisition. Virves, whose only crime was that of being a pious and moderate Catholic, had to undergo for four years all the horrors of a secret prison. He says himself that they hardly gave him leave to breathe. The inquisitors overwhelmed him with accusations, with interdictions, with libels and with words, he says, which one can not hear without being terrified. He adds that he was charged with errors, heresies, blasphemies, anathemas, schism, and other similar monstrosities. To convince them, he undertook labors which might be likened to those of Hercules. He exhibited the points which he had drawn up by way of preparation for an attack on Melanchthon before the diet of Ratisbon. But all was useless. The tribunal condemned him in 1537 to abjure all heresies, among others those of Luther, to be confined in a monastery for two years, and to abstain from preaching for two years after his liberation. The poor man had to appear in the cathedral of Seville, and to retract, among other propositions, the following:—'A life of action is more meritorious than a life of contemplation.—A larger number of Christians are saved in the married state than in all other states.' Charles the Fifth, determined at all cost to rescue his chaplain from imprisonment, applied to the pope, who by a brief of May 29, 1538, ordered that Virves should be set at liberty, and be again allowed to preach. Charles now nominated him bishop of the Canary Islands. After some hesitation, the pope consented to the appointment, and in 1540, the heretic was invested with the episcopal mitre. In the following year he published at Antwerp his Philippicæ Disputationes, in which his objections to the doctrines of Luther are set forth. In the same book, however, he asserted that heretics ought not to be ill-used, but persuaded, and this especially by setting before them the testimonies of Holy Scripture; because all Scripture given by inspiration of God is profitable, says St. Paul, for doctrine, for reproof, for correction. Alfonso Virves was one of those Spaniards whom the Inquisition prevented from becoming evangelical, but could not succeed in making papistical and ultramontane.[41]

Virves was not the only Spaniard who imbibed in Germany views which nearly approached to those of the Reformation. Several learnt more than he did in the land of Luther, and exerted an influence on the Peninsula. Curiosity was awakened, and people wanted to know what that reformation was of which so much was said. Spain, rigid and antique, began to be astir. Meetings were held in the country and secret associations were formed. The Inquisition, astonished, turned in all directions its searching eyes. In vain were learned theologians sent to Germany and other lands for the purpose of bringing back to the church of Rome those who were leaving it. The doctors themselves returned to Spain, conquered by the truth against which they were to fight.[42] Many of them became victims to their faith after their return to their native land; others became martyrs in foreign lands.

CHAPTER II.

REFORMATION AND INQUISITION.

SECRET MEETINGS.

Seville and Valladolid were the two principal seats of the awakening. These towns were at this time, properly speaking, the two capitals of Spain. In both of them evangelical Christians used to meet together secretly to worship God in spirit and in truth, and to confirm each other in the faith and in obedience to the commandments of the Lord. There were monasteries nearly all the members of which had received the doctrine of the Gospel. It had, moreover, adherents scattered about in all parts of the Peninsula. Rodrigo de Valerio, the lay reformer of Spain, continued his labors in Seville. He held conversations daily with the priests and the monks. 'Pray how comes it to pass,' he said to them, 'that not only the clergy but the whole Christian community is found to be in so lamentable a condition that there seems to be hardly any hope of a remedy for it? It is you that are the cause of this state of things. The corruption of your order has corrupted every thing. Lose no time in applying an efficient remedy to so vast an evil. Be yourselves transformed that you may be able to transform others.' Valerio supported these eloquent appeals by the declarations of Holy Scripture. The priests were astonished and indignant. 'Whence comes the audacity,' they said, 'with which you assail those who are the very lights and pillars of the Church?[43] How dare a mere layman, an unlettered man, who has been occupied solely in secular affairs and in ruining himself, speak with such insolence?... Who commissioned you, and where is the seal of your calling?' 'Assuredly,' replied Valerio, candidly, 'I did not acquire this wisdom from your corrupt morals; it comes from the Spirit of God, which flows, like rivers of living water, from those who believe in Jesus Christ. As for my boldness, it is given by him who sends me. He is the truth itself which I proclaim. The Spirit of God is not bound to any order, least of all to that of a corrupt clergy. Those men were laymen, plain fishermen, who convicted of blindness the whole learned synagogue, and called the world to the knowledge of salvation.'

JOHN EGIDIUS.

Thus spoke Rodrigo; and he was distressed to see all these priests 'unable to endure the shining light of the Gospel.' One great consolation was given to him. The preacher of Seville cathedral at this time was John Gil, or Egidius, a doctor, born at Olvera, in Aragon, and educated at the university of Alcala. He possessed the qualities of an orator; for he was a man of fine character and of keen sensibility. But these essential qualities, instead of being developed at the university, had lain dormant. The intellectual faculty alone had been cultivated. There was a fire in the man's nature, but it had been quenched by Scholasticism. Egidius had plunged into the study of the theology of the schools, the only science then in vogue in Spain. In this he had distinguished himself, had won the highest academical honors, and had become professor of theology at Siguenza. He was not content with letting the Word of God alone; he openly avowed contempt for the study of it, ridiculed such members of the university as diligently read the sacred books, and with a shrug of the shoulders used to call them 'those good Biblists.' Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, Scotus, and other doctors of the same class, were the men for him. His flatterers went so far as to allege that he surpassed them. As the reputation of Egidius was spreading far and wide, when the office of chief canon or preacher of the cathedral of Seville became vacant, the chapter unanimously elected him, and even dispensed with the trial usual in such cases. Egidius, absorbed in his Scholastic books, had never preached in public nor studied the Holy Scriptures. He nevertheless fancied that nothing could be easier to him than preaching, which in his view was an inferior office. He expected even that he should dazzle his hearers by the blaze of Scholasticism, and attract them by its charms. He therefore ascended the pulpit of the cathedral of the capital of Andalusia. A numerous congregation had assembled, and expecting something wonderful were very attentive. The illustrious doctor preached, but after the Scholastic fashion. Having put forward some proposition, he explained its various meanings. The terms which he made use of were those of the schools, and his hearers could hardly understand them. What frivolous distinctions! What profitless questions! The preacher thought it all very fine: his audience felt it to be very tiresome. They gave him, however, a second and a third hearing; but it was always the same—dry and wearisome. The famous theologian was thus the least popular of the preachers, and Egidius saw his congregation lessening day by day. His sermons fell into the greatest contempt among the people. Those who had imprudently called him to the post began to consider how they could get rid of him; and the preacher himself, anxious about his reputation and the usefulness of his ministry, began to look out for a less brilliant position, in which people might make more account of him.[44]

VALERIO AND EGIDIUS.

Rodrigo had gone with the multitude, and was one of those who were dissatisfied with these Scholastic discourses. But he was gifted with the discerning of spirits, and beneath the Scholastic doctor he had been able to recognize the orator and his indisputable abilities. He was grieved to see the gifts of God thus thrown away, and he resolved to speak frankly to Egidius. 'Divine Providence,' says the chronicler, 'impelled him to this course.' Having made request, therefore, for an interview with the canon, Valerio, received by him with some feeling of surprise, but still with kindliness, began at once to speak to him about the function of the Christian orator.[45] This function, in his view, was not to set forth certain theses and anti-theses, but to address the consciences of men, to present Christ to them as the author of eternal salvation, and to press them to throw themselves into the arms of this Saviour, that through him they might become new creatures. 'You are in need of other studies,' he said to the schoolman, 'other books, and other guides than those which you have chosen.' Egidius was at first astounded; his pride rebelled. 'What audacity!' he thought; 'this man sprung from the common people, ignorant and of feeble understanding, dares to criticise me, and confidently to teach me, a man with whom he is hardly acquainted!'[46] Nevertheless, the natural kindliness of Egidius, and the reflection that Rodrigo was speaking of the art of preaching, in which he had miserably failed, repressed this first emotion. He kept his self-possession and listened attentively to the layman. Rodrigo frankly pointed out to him the defects of his manner of preaching, and exhorted him to search the Scriptures. 'You will never succeed,' he said, 'in becoming really powerful as a teacher unless you study the Bible day and night.'[47] He told him that in order to preach salvation he must first have found it himself, and that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth must speak. A few hours sufficed for the enlightenment of Egidius; and from this time he became a new man.[48] How many years had he lost, both as student and as professor! 'I perceive,' said he, 'that all the studies and all the labors of my past life have been vain. I now enter upon the new path of a wisdom of which I did not know the A B C.' The weariness and dejection of Egidius were now over, and he felt great peace and joy. He saw God opening to him the treasury of his love. 'The heavens were beginning to be serene and the earth peaceful.' Egidius was naturally very open-hearted, frank, and sincere. The Gospel, the great revelation of God's love, had for him an unspeakable charm. He received it joyfully, and his heart resounded with a new song. He studied the Holy Scriptures, prayed, meditated, and read good authors; and thus made progress in the knowledge of true theology.

Rodrigo de Valerio was made glad by the wonderful change which God had wrought through his ministry; and the victory which he had won raised still higher his burning zeal. He began to proclaim the Gospel not only in private meetings, but in public, in the streets and squares of the town, near the Giralda, the convent of Buena Vitta, the Alcazar, and on the banks of the Guadalquivir. He was denounced to the holy office, and when he appeared before the tribunal of the Inquisition he spoke earnestly about the real church of Christ, set forth its distinguishing marks, and especially insisted on the justification of man by faith. This took place a little while after the conversion of Egidius, whose new faith was not yet known, and who still enjoyed in society the reputation of a scholar and a good Catholic. Glad of an opportunity of repaying his great debt, he came before the tribunal and defended his friend. He thus exerted an influence over the judges, and they took into consideration the lowliness of Valerio's family and the rank which he held in society. Moreover, they said Valerio is tainted with insanity, and it can hardly be necessary to hand over a madman to the secular power. His goods were confiscated, he was exhorted to return to the right path, and was then set at liberty.

The astonishing change which had been effected in Egidius was soon remarked at Seville. Now fully persuaded of the need of repentance and faith, and possessing salvation by personal experience,[49] his preaching was henceforth as simple, affectionate, and fervent as it had before been cold, ignorant, and pedantic. Abstract propositions and fruitless disputations now gave place to powerful appeals to conscience and to entreaties full of charity. General attention was aroused. Once more a multitude thronged the noble cathedral, erected on the very spot on which the Arabs had formerly built a magnificent mosque, in which neither altar nor image was to be seen, but which was brilliant with marbles and lamps. The Christians were now summoned to hear the good news by bells in the summit of the Mohammedan tower, the Giralda, whence the muezzins had once called the people to prayer. This was the sole remnant of the mosque, and it gave its name to the church. Jesus Christ now took the place of the false prophet and the vain forms of the papacy; and many believed in the grace of the Son of God. In the discourses of Egidius there was a charm which was felt alike by the educated and the ignorant. He was the most animated and the most popular preacher who had ever appeared at Seville; and his history shows, better perhaps than that of any other preacher, that the first quality of an orator is a heart burning with love and with fervent emotion. Pectus facit oratorem. This man had received from God the excellent gift of penetrating the souls of those who heard him with a divine fire[50] which animated all their deeds of piety and fitted them to endure lovingly the cross with which they were threatened. Christ was with him in his ministry, says one of those who were converted by him; and this divine Master himself engraved, by the virtue of his Spirit, the words of his servant on the hearts of his hearers.[51] Valerio was the layman of the Reformation; Egidius became its minister.

PONCE DE LA FUENTE AND VARGAS.

He was not long alone. During his residence at Alcala, three students were observed to be united in close friendship with each other. These were John Egidius, Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, and Vargas. Now these two old fellow-students arrived at Seville. The Castilian, Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, was born at St. Clement, in the diocese of Cuença. The inhabitants of these districts concealed under an aspect of coldness a free and boisterous gaiety. Ponce de la Fuente was certainly one of these people. He had a caustic humor, was a lover of pleasure, and ardent in all that he did. His youth had been somewhat dissipated, and for this he was afterwards reproached by his enemies. But he possessed also good sense and a moral disposition, which soon led him to embrace a more regular life, even before he was acquainted with the Gospel. He never lost, however, his cheerfulness and his wit. He was animated by a strong desire to gain solid knowledge, and at the same time he felt great aversion to the pedantry and barbarism of the schools. In some respects he was like Erasmus. He was a son of the Renaissance, and, like his master, enjoyed ridiculing the ignorance of the monks, the fooleries of the preachers, and the hypocrisy of the pharisees. Although he had not the genius of the great man of letters, in some points he surpassed him. There was more depth in his faith and more decision in his character. Contradictory qualities met in his nature. He would hurl in all directions his satirical darts, and yet he was full of benevolence and generosity, and was always ready to give assistance to any one. It was, moreover, said of him that no one ever loved or hated him moderately. His acquaintance with the human heart, his knowledge of the egotism and the indifference which are found even in the best men, made him very scrupulous in the selection of his friends. But he deeply loved the few to whom he was attached; and with his great acquirements he combined a free and cordial manner.

Ponce de la Fuente was apparently detained at Seville by the report of the conversion of Egidius and of the great sensation which his discourses were producing in that town. Like Vargas, he hungered and thirsted for a truth which should satisfy all his wants, and which was as yet unknown to him. That which these two were still in search of, they learnt that the third had found. They hastened to his presence. They found Egidius convinced that the knowledge of Christ surpasses every thing besides, so that in order to obtain it there is nothing which ought not to be given up. He had found it the chief good. He had gained it by faith, and he was prepared for the sake of keeping it to lose all that he possessed. The communion of the three friends became more and more intimate, their friendship sweeter and sweeter.[52] In their intercourse with each other they found so much solace and so much profit to their souls that when they were parted they sighed for the moment when they should meet again. Their souls were one. Egidius made known evangelical truth to his old fellow-students; and on their part Vargas, and still more de la Fuente, 'the extent of whose knowledge was marvellous,'[53] gave him a wholesome impulse, under the influence of which he made rapid progress both in sound literature and true theology. The brotherly affection which united them filled their hearts with joy; and this joy, says a reformer, was perfumed with the sweet odor of the service of God.

HARMONIOUS ACTION.

The three friends formed a plan, and combined their efforts to spread true piety around them. Egidius and de la Fuente divided between them the work of preaching. Their manner of speaking differed. While Egidius had much openness of heart, de la Fuente had much openness of intellect. In the discourses of Egidius there was more fire; more light in those of de la Fuente. The former took souls captive; the latter enlightened understandings, and obtained, says a historian,[54] as much and even more applause than his master. This means doubtless that his influence was still more powerful. Vargas had undertaken another department, that of practical exegesis. At first he explained in the church the Gospel according to St. Matthew, as Zwingli had done at Zurich; and afterwards the Psalms.[55] These three evangelists spoke with a sacred authority, and with admirable unity. 'What harmony,' people said, 'prevails between Egidius, Constantine, and Vargas!' But nobody suspected that the word spoken by these three powerful teachers was the evangelical doctrine then being preached by Luther, Farel, and the other reformers. There was no more reference to them in the discourses of the Spaniards than if they had not existed. All those souls which thirsted for the truth would have been alarmed at the names of these men, heretics in their eyes; but they were attracted by the words full of grace and truth which were those of John, Peter, and Paul, nay, rather of Jesus himself. The sheep entered into the fold in which were already those who were elsewhere called by Melanchthon and by Calvin, without in the least suspecting the fact. Their strong but invisible bond of union was Christ, whose grace operated silently but with the same efficacy on the banks of the Elbe, the Rhone, and the Guadalquivir.

The reputation of Ponce de la Fuente was ere long as widespread as that of Egidius. There was one feature in his character which doubled, nay, which multiplied a hundredfold the force and result of his preaching. He was free from vanity. This besetting sin of the orator, a vice which paralyses his influence, had no place in him. He was quite exempt from that exalted opinion of himself which is so natural to the human heart, and especially to the public speaker. He had recovered the first of all loves—the love of God; and this so filled his soul that it left no room for any other. He was indifferent to the praises of his hearers, and his only thought was how to win their hearts for God. His reputation procured him several calls. The chapter of Cuença unanimously invited him to be preacher at the cathedral. By accepting the invitation he would have gained an honorable position in his own province; but he chose rather to remain the curate of Egidius. Some time afterwards a deputation arrived at Seville, commissioned to announce to de la Fuente that he was called to succeed the titular bishop of Utica as preacher at the metropolitan church of Toledo, an office of high honor and very much sought after.[56] No one doubted that he would accept a place which was the object of ambition to so many men. De la Fuente, having no wish to leave Seville, where a great door was opened to him, declined the offer. The canons persisted in their application, pressed him and seemed bent on compelling him. In order to get rid of their importunity, Ponce availed himself of an objection which was certainly in character with the turn of his mind. In the church of Toledo a dispute was at this time going on between several members of the chapter and the cardinalarchbishop John de Martinez Siliceo, who had decreed that the candidates elected by the chapter should be bound to prove that they were descended from blameless ancestors. Now de la Fuente had no reason to fear this rule more than any other; but being driven to extremities, he replied to the deputies with an arch smile that 'the bones of his ancestors had rested in peace for many years, and that he would not disturb their repose.'

OPPOSITION.

It was inevitable that the labors of these evangelical men should arouse at Seville a lively opposition. The more the hearers of the three evangelists were rescued by their preaching from the darkness of ignorance, and the more they shook off the dust of the middle ages, so much the more they esteemed the noble men to whom they were indebted for the light, and the less respect they felt for the troop of hypocrites who had so long destroyed their souls by their teaching.[57] Consequently the palace of the Inquisition resounded with complaints, and nothing but threats was to be heard in the castle of Triana, situated in a suburb of Seville, in which the tribunal of the holy office was established. The evangelists, however, had friends so numerous and so powerful that the inquisitors did not dare at present to attack them. They turned their attention to the other preachers, endeavored to awaken them, and implored them to defend the faith of Rome, now so terribly shaken. And, in fact, the priests attached to ancient superstitions ere long arose as out of a long sleep and warmed their torpid zeal. The fire of Rome, well-nigh extinct, was rekindled. There were two camps in Seville. Over the cathedral floated the banner of the Gospel; in almost all the other churches was raised the flag of the papacy. A contemporary asserts that it was the flag of Epictetus, and he thinks that these priests were rather inferior to the Stoic philosopher.[58] 'Unstring your rosaries and your beads more frequently,' said the priests; 'get many masses said; abstain from meat; go on pilgrimage; have such and such dresses, such an aspect, and other poor things of the like kind.'[59] 'A fine mask of piety,' people used to say; 'but if you examine these things more closely, what do you find?' At the cathedral, on the contrary, the preachers urged their hearers to read the Holy Scriptures; they set forth the merits of a crucified Saviour and called upon men to place all their trust in him. The evangelical preachers were fewer in number than the others, but around them were gathered the best part of the population. Gradually the books of the Roman service were laid aside and gave place to the Gospel. Many hearts were attracted by the Word of God. The religion of form lost many of its adherents, and the religion of the spirit gained them. Among these were several inmates of the convent of the Hieronymites, in San Isidro del Campo. But for the Inquisition, the Reformation would have transformed Spain, and secured the prosperity and welfare of its people.

ELOQUENCE OF DE LA FUENTE.

Ponce de la Fuente, above all, charmed his hearers not only by the beauty of the doctrine which he proclaimed, but also by the purity and elegance of his language, and by the overpowering bursts of his eloquence. Those who heard it exclaimed, 'A miracle!'[60] Ponce was a great observer, and this both by nature and by choice. He took his stand as it were upon a height, and set himself to consider attentively all that presented itself to him—physical phenomena, moral affections, and human affairs.[61] By means of his learning, his experience, and his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, he was able to contemplate as from an elevated position all things human and divine. He had also an accurate judgment, a quality of the first importance to a preacher. He had a sense of the just value of things; discretion not only guided him in all his actions, but also inspired all his words. This explains the popularity which he ere long enjoyed. In his view the tact of the orator should teach him to avoid whatever would uselessly shock the hearer, and to seek after every thing which could bring souls to salvation. On the days when he preached, Seville cathedral presented the finest spectacle. His service was usually at eight o'clock in the morning; and the concourse of people was so great that as early as four o'clock, frequently even at three, hardly a place in the church was left vacant.[62] It was openly asserted in Seville that Ponce de la Fuente surpassed the most illustrious orators of his own age and of the age which had preceded it.[63] In spite of the extraordinary popularity which he enjoyed, he had remained one of the simplest of men, free from the love of money, without ambition, satisfied with frugal diet, with a small library, and not caring for that wealth for the sake of which certain public pests, said one of his friends, ravaged the church of God. He had given proof of this by refusing the rich canonry of Toledo.

During many years Seville, more fortunate in this respect than any other town in Spain,[64] heard the pure Gospel of Christ proclaimed. Besides the service in the cathedral, there were meetings of a more private character in some of the houses. The abundant harvest which the fertile soil of Spain afterwards yielded was the fruit of these laborious sowings.[65] De la Fuente, Egidius, and Vargas, men as remarkable for their doctrine as for their life, were the first great sowers of the good seed in the Peninsula. 'They deserve,' said one of their good friends, 'to be held in perpetual remembrance.' Who can tell what might have happened in Spain if the work of these three associated Christians could have been longer carried on? But on a sudden Egidius found himself deprived of his two companions in arms, and this in most diverse ways.

Charles the Fifth happened to be in Spain just at the time when Ponce de la Fuente was achieving the greatest success. The emperor came to Seville; and in consequence of the high praise of the preacher which reached him from all quarters he wished to hear him. Charles was delighted. He was fond of fine things, and the same doctrines which, when professed in Belgium, in some obscure conventicle by a cutler or a furrier, he punished as frightful heresies, did not offend him when they came from the lips of a great orator, and were proclaimed to an immense crowd in the most beautiful church in Spain. He almost believed that talent was orthodox. We have moreover remarked that one of the characteristics of de la Fuente was to preach the pure Gospel, avoiding every thing which might shock his hearers. The emperor sent for him to the palace. Charmed with his conversation, his intelligence, and his polished and agreeable manners, he named him one of his chaplains. To this appointment he soon added the office of almoner, and invited him to follow him beyond the Pyrenees. De la Fuente, being attached to Seville, would gladly have declined the call, as he had those from Cuença and Toledo. But this time it was his sovereign who called him. The will of Charles the Fifth was law, and there was no way of escape. Moreover this call, in his judgment, came from God himself. He, therefore, prepared for his departure. Strange to say, the emperor charged him to accompany his son Philip into the Netherlands and to England.[66] 'I intend,' he said, 'to show the Flemings that Spain is not without her amiable scholars and eminent orators.' De la Fuente, therefore, accompanied Philip. He afterwards rejoined Charles in Germany, discharged the duties of chaplain to him, and had the opportunity of making the acquaintance of some of the reformers.

DEATH OF VARGAS.

The departure of Ponce de la Fuente left the Roman party at Seville more at ease. They resolved now to get rid first of Vargas. This theologian, who perhaps had neither the tact of de la Fuente nor the fervor of Egidius, was just on the point of being cited before the tribunals when he died. Egidius thus left alone felt keenly the loss of his friends. He was to have no more intimate communion, no more familiar conversations. The illustrious preacher encountered everywhere hostile looks, and had no longer a friendly ear into which he could pour his sorrow. His singular openheartedness exposed him more than others to hatred. Simple and candid, when called to speak from the chief pulpit at Seville, he attacked the enemies of the light more openly and more frequently than his colleagues had done.[67] Consequently, his adversaries, full of anger against him, put into circulation the most unfavorable reports of his orthodoxy. They surrounded him with secret agents, who were instructed to pick up his sayings and to spy out his proceedings; and they schemed among themselves what course they must take to get rid of a man whom they detested. Egidius was left alone; but even alone he was a power in Seville. If his enemies could succeed in overthrowing him, the Inquisition would then reign without a rival. Unfortunately for these fanatical men, Egidius counted a large number of friends among all classes. After a careful examination of all the circumstances, they had not courage publicly to accuse him. There was need of the brilliant popularity of which he was subsequently the object to raise their irritation to such a pitch that they determined to proceed to extremities.

VALERIO CONDEMNED.

The inquisitors did not stop here. Rodrigo de Valerio, after having been set at liberty, on the ground, they said, that he was merely mad, had refrained, by the desire of his friends, from publicly preaching the Gospel. Unwilling, however, to do absolutely nothing, he had gathered together a certain number of his friends and had in a familiar way interpreted to them the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, that ocean, as Chrysostom called it, which meets us everywhere at the beginning of the awakenings.[68] Some of those who listened to him persevered in the faith; others, at a later time, rejected it. Among the latter in particular was Peter Diaz, who having forsaken the Gospel entered the Society of Jesuits and died at Mexico.[69] But the brave Rodrigo could not long submit to this restriction. Ought he to shrink, he said to himself, from exposing his liberty, or even his life, when the Gospel was at stake? Others had given their lives for a less object than this. He was in hope, moreover, of arousing by his own example other combatants who should finally win the victory. He, therefore, laid aside timid precautions and began again to point out publicly the errors and superstitions of Rome. He was once more denounced, and was arrested by the Inquisition, which was quite determined this time not to let slip the pretended madman. He was sentenced to imprisonment for life and to wear the san benito, a cloak of a yellow color, the usual garb of the victims of the Inquisition. Every Sunday and feast-day, Valerio was taken, as well as other penitents, by the familiars of the holy office to Saint Saviour's Church, at Seville, to hear both the sermon and the high mass. He appeared as a penitent without repentance. He could not listen to the doctrine of the monks without in some way showing his opposition to it. He would sometimes rise from his seat, and, while the whole assembly fixed their eyes on him, put questions to the preacher, refute his doctrines, and entreat his hearers to take care they did not receive them.[70] Rodrigo could not hear a doctrine contrary to the Gospel without his whole soul being stirred within him. The inquisitors, steadily persuaded of his madness, at first excused these interpellations, which to them seemed to be the clearest proof of his malady. But the discourses of this insane man were so reasonable that they produced an impression. The inquisitors at length confined him in a convent on the coast of San Lucar, where all society was forbidden him; and here he died at about the age of fifty. His san benito was exhibited in the metropolitan Church of Seville, with this inscription:—Rodrigo Valerio, a false apostle who gave out that he was sent of God. It was after the departure of de la Fuente from Seville that the final sentence was pronounced against Valerio.

CHAPTER III.

SPAIN OUT OF SPAIN.

(1537-1545.)

The Spaniards who at this epoch distinguished themselves by the purest faith were those who, having been by various circumstances transported into Germany and the Netherlands, were there brought into contact with the Reformation and its most remarkable men. Thus it happens that respecting these we possess the most detailed information. We are, therefore, called to look in this chapter and the following ones at Spain out of Spain.

THE THREE ENZINAS.

While Seville was a great evangelical centre in the South, and the foremost town in Spain at the epoch of the Reformation, there were also cities in the north of the Peninsula, which were distinguished by some remarkable features, particularly Valladolid and Burgos. The latter town, situated in a fertile country, and once the capital of Castile, gave birth to four young men, who were afterwards noted for their devotion to the Gospel, but who spent most of their lives beyond the Pyrenees. These were James, Francis and John de Enzinas, sons of a respectable citizen of Burgos, who had kinsmen of noble rank and high connections, and Francis San Romano, of more humble origin, but whose parents were 'good honest people.' His father was alcalde of Bribiesca. These four young men, almost of the same age, were comrades at Burgos.[71] For various reasons they quitted the town in their youth. The father of the Enzinas, a man in his way ambitious for his children, and holding firmly by his authority as a father, continued to rule his sons even after they had attained their majority. He sent them to complete their education at the university of Louvain, partly because the course of study there was of a more liberal cast than in Spain, and partly because he had kinsmen settled in the Netherlands, some of whom were at the court and enjoyed the favor of Charles the Fifth. It appeared to him that a fine career was there open to their ambition, and that they would perhaps ultimately rise to the high position of their father. They were indeed to find a career, but one of a more noble and glorious kind.

The Enzinas, having arrived in the Netherlands before 1540, applied themselves zealously to their studies. They were all of them, and especially Francis, desirous of discovering all that was true and good, fully determined to communicate to others the truths which they had acquired, filled with courage to defend them against all attacks and with perseverance to continue in the face of danger faithful to their convictions.[72] They had the Spanish temperament, depth and fervor of soul, seriousness and reflectiveness of understanding; and some faults of their nature were corrected by Christian faith. Their language had not only stateliness but thought. The sense of honor did not in them degenerate into pride, as is so often the case; and their religious faith, by the influence of the Gospel, was preserved from superstition. They have been known under different names in different countries. Their family name, Enzinas, which in Spanish denotes a species of oak, was as usual hellenized in Germany, where they bore the name of Dryander, and was turned into French in France, where they were sometimes called Duchesne.

These three young men had a taste for literature, and made rapid progress in it. While the truly noble and liberal bent of their intellect separated them from the theologians who were virtually imprisoned within the walls of the Scholastic method and doctrine, their naturally religious disposition, the common characteristic of their countrymen, led them to seek out the pious men of their day. Two of these were the means of bringing them over from Roman Catholicism to evangelical Protestantism; both of them conciliatory men, who, though they belonged especially to one of the two categories, maintained at the same time some relations with the other. One of them stood on the Catholic side, the other on the Protestant; but they had both been desirous of bringing about a reconciliation between the Reformation and Catholicism. One of these men was George Cassander, born in 1515, probably in the island of Cassandria, at the mouth of the Scheldt. He was a good scholar, and was a perfect master of languages and literature, law and theology, and taught with great reputation in various universities in the Netherlands. Sincerely pious, he made it the purpose of his life to demonstrate the agreement of the two parties in essential doctrines and to endeavor to unite them. With this intent he published various works.[73] The emperor Ferdinand at a later time requested him to work for this end. The Enzinas associated themselves with him. An intimate friendship grew up between them; they had frequent conversations and wrote to each other when separated.[74] But while the Catholics thought that Cassander conceded too much to the Protestants, the latter, and especially Calvin, complained that he conceded too much to the Catholics. He did, in fact, remain always united with the Roman church, declared that he submitted to its judgment, and openly condemned schism and its authors.

The three brothers, endowed with an honest spirit, were resolved to get to the bottom of things. The spirit of Cassander, timid, as they thought, and the inadequacy of the reforms which he allowed to be desirable, displeased them; and they gradually withdrew from him. They looked for better guides, and studied the Holy Scriptures. By public report they heard of Melanchthon, and they began to read and to meditate on his writings. He was their second teacher, more enlightened, more evangelical, and more illustrious than the first. Melanchthon laid open to their understanding in a luminous manner the sacred Epistles. He revealed to his reader the grace of Jesus Christ, and this without the asperity and the violent language which are sometimes to be met with in Luther. Melanchthon's moderation charmed them. They had found their master.

FRANCIS ENZINAS.

About the close of 1537, Francis Enzinas, then from twenty to twenty-five years of age, was recalled by his family to Burgos. His relative, Peter de Lerma, had just been prosecuted by the Inquisition. It was supposed that the views for which proceedings had been taken against him were to be attributed to his sojourn at Paris. Those inhabitants of Burgos who had sent their sons to foreign universities were alarmed lest their children and themselves should be subjected to the severities of the Inquisition. This was mainly the cause of the return of Francis to Burgos. 'At that time,' says he, 'I was assailed by earnest remonstrances on the part of my parents, and I began to be looked on with suspicion by many great persons, because I would not comply with their requirements and give up the studies, the savor of which I had already tasted.'[75] His aged uncle, Peter de Lerma, was at this time at Burgos. Francis went to see him, and found him unhappy and dispirited, unable to reconcile himself to the thought of living in a country where a man must either be in agreement with the Inquisition or become its victim. 'Ah!' said he, 'I can no longer remain in Spain. It is impossible for men of learning to dwell in safety in the midst of so many persecutors.' What though he was now nearly eighty years old? What though he must renounce, if he quitted Spain, all his goods and all his honors? He determined to seek after another abode in which he might end his days in peace. He would not hear of delay either on account of the season of the year, when storms are most to be dreaded, or on account of the war which was raging beyond the Pyrenees. He was resolved to leave Spain immediately. Perhaps he was encouraged not to put off his departure by the thought that the younger Enzinas might be of some service to him in carrying out his project. The old man embarked on a vessel which was sailing for Flanders. On his arrival there he betook himself to Paris, where he had formerly resided. During his first stay in the capital of France, De Lerma had been made doctor of the Sorbonne; he now found himself the most aged member of the University. His friends, persuaded that he had been persecuted unjustly, received him with much respect. He spent four years at Paris.

Francis had returned to Louvain. A great thought had by this time taken possession of his mind. His supreme desire was to see Spain converted to the Gospel. Now what means so mighty for this end as to give to the land the Word of God, and what a happiness it would be for him to enrich his native country with this treasure! In former ages the Bible had been translated, but the Inquisition had flung it into the flames. Hardly a single copy had escaped;[76] and Spaniards proudly boasted of the fact that their language had never served to dishonor the Book of God by exposing it to profane eyes. Enzinas, in common with others, supposed that the New Testament had never yet been translated into Spanish. He therefore zealously undertook this task, but when he had made a beginning he felt that it was not in the Netherlands that he could conveniently accomplish it. The superstitions prevalent around him, and the annoyances which he had to endure on the part of the fanatical ultramontanes, made him ardently long to leave Louvain. At the same time he felt the need of a visit to Wittenberg, to talk over his work with Luther and Melanchthon, that he might profit by their larger knowledge. He was already acquainted with their writings, but he wished for their counsel, and desired an introduction to them.

ENZINAS AND ALASCO.

LETTER OF ENZINAS.

Enzinas had met Alasco at Louvain in 1536, when the latter, after leaving Poland, had directed his steps to the Netherlands. He had been struck with the aspect, at once serious and gentle, of the Polish noble, and he had admired the air of stateliness and dignity which invested his whole person.[77] But he had not yet perceived 'the treasures which lay hidden in the depth of his soul.' Subsequently, Albert Hardenberg arrived at Louvain. They talked together about John Alasco, and Hardenberg expressed himself with all the warmth of a friend. 'How can I name to you,' he said, 'all the gifts which God has bestowed on him, his eminent piety, his pure religion, the sweetness and the benevolence of his disposition, his wonderful acquaintance with all the liberal sciences, his aptitude for languages?... In these respects he surpasses all other men.'[78] These words of Hardenberg kindled in the heart of Enzinas a warm love for Alasco; and ere long, he says, the little spark became a great flame.[79] He would fain have gone to him in all haste; but he was detained at Louvain by insuperable obstacles. He attempted to write to him; but when he read over his letter, abashed and anxious, he threw it away. At last he set out; but when he had reached Antwerp he found himself compelled to go back to Louvain. Not long after his return he heard that Alasco's wife was there. She was, as we have seen, a native of this town. Francis hastened to her dwelling. He saw the wife and the daughter of his friend; he almost fancied that he saw the friend himself. He availed himself of the opportunity to write to the man for whom he had conceived one of those great and intense affections which are sometimes found in healthy natures. He wrote to Alasco as a soldier who stands near his captain. It appears that his parents had destined him for a military career, and he knew the almost inflexible will of his father. He had had conflicts to go through. A Spanish noble, doubtless for the purpose of encouraging him to enter upon the career which his father had chosen, had presented him with a beautiful and antique sword. 'Although,' wrote the young soldier of Christ to Alasco, 'I should see the whole world taking up arms against me, because in spite of the advice of respected men I dedicate myself to study, I would not slight the gifts which God in his goodness, and without any deservings on my part, has given me. I will strive like a man to propagate the truth which God has revealed to us. But for this purpose I must fly far from this Babylonish captivity, and betake myself to some place where piety is not proscribed, and where a man may devote himself to noble studies. I have decided to go to Wittenberg, to the university which possesses so many learned professors, where knowledge of such various kinds is to be found, and which enjoys the approbation of all good men. I think so highly of the knowledge, the judgment, and the gift of teaching of Philip Melanchthon, that for his sake alone, to enjoy the conversation and the instruction of so great a man, I would fly to the ends of the world.[80] Aid me in my project. This you may do by giving me letters to facilitate my access to Luther, Melanchthon, and other scholars, and to obtain for me their kindly regard.'

This was not all. Enzinas delivered to Alasco's wife, as an act of homage to her husband, the antique and valuable sword presented to him by a Spanish noble. 'You will say to me,' he adds, '"What would you have me do with a sword?" I know that you are armed with a better, one which penetrates deeper than any other, the Word of God. But I send you this as a token of the love that I bear to you, and of the respect that I feel for the gifts which God has given you.' This letter is dated May 10, 1541.

Francis Enzinas was not able to go immediately to Wittenberg. He had to undertake a journey to Paris in the summer of 1541, partly to see his elder brother then residing there, and partly to attend on his aged uncle, Peter de Lerma, who was now drawing near to his end. The young man was thus with his aged kinsman on two most solemn occasions—his departure from Spain, and his death. Francis found him weakened, but still enjoying the use of his fine faculties. He went frequently to see him, and they had long and confidential interviews. The suavity of the old man, and his seriousness unmixed with severity, charmed and delighted Francis,[81] who from infancy had always loved and honored his relative, and now esteemed it a privilege to testify to the last his respectful affection. His parents wrote to him from Burgos to take the greatest care of his aged uncle. He therefore went daily to see him, and his visits made glad the heart of the old man. Suddenly, in the month of August 1541, Peter de Lerma exchanged the miseries of this world for the joys of the life eternal.[82] The patriarch of eighty-five and the youth of twenty-five were together at this solemn moment. Life was just beginning for Francis at the time when it was ending for his uncle; and the former, like the latter, was to experience all its burdens. As the sole representative of the family, he gave the old man honor and reverence till his death.[83]

At Paris, Francis had found, as we have stated, his elder brother James, who had gone thither by his father's command to complete his studies; and it is possible that this interview may have been the real purpose of his journey. James had, like his brother, a noble and independent mind, a sensitive conscience, and a pure and innocent nature which unsuspectingly showed itself as it was. This openness of character exposed him to great danger. To these qualities he added a very refined taste, which enabled him to appreciate instinctively the works of intellect and the productions of art. James was already convinced of the great truths of the Gospel, but his faith was strengthened during his stay at Paris; and he exerted a beneficial influence on some of his fellow-countrymen who were studying there at the same time.

MARTYRDOM OF LEPEINTRE.

In this capital he did not find every thing answering to his expectation. The professors were mostly bigots, who had a very small stock of knowledge, but nevertheless assumed a consequential air, although the little philosophy which they possessed made them really less intelligent than if they had had none at all. The students had little good-breeding, nor did they show any desire for really liberal researches. James Enzinas was deeply moved by the heroism of the martyrs, and the cruelty of their executioners made him shudder. One day a very young man named Claude Lepeintre, about twenty years of age, was conducted to the Place Maubert, to suffer there the last penalty. He had resided three years at Geneva, serving, it appears, an apprenticeship to a goldsmith. In that city he had found the Gospel. After his return to Paris, his native place, 'he had endeavored to impart to his friends the knowledge of eternal salvation.' Some people of the house in which he carried on his trade as a goldsmith 'could not endure the sweet savor of the Gospel of the Son of God,' and therefore took him before the criminal judge, who condemned him to be burnt alive. He appealed to the parliament, which, as Claude refused to recant, added that he should forthwith have his tongue cut out. Without change of countenance the pious young Christian presented his tongue to the executioner, who seized it with pincers and cut it off. It is even added that with it he struck the martyr several blows on the cheek. He was then placed in a car to be taken to the stake. Several evangelical Christians, students and others, such as James Enzinas, his friend the advocate Crespin, and Eustace of Knobelsdorf, would not leave him till his death. His martyrdom was described by all three of them. While on his way to the Place Maubert he was subjected, say these eye-witnesses, to 'numberless insults which they cast at him. But it was wonderful to see his self-possession and constancy, and how he passed on with a light heart. It might have been thought that he was going to a banquet.' He alighted of his own accord from the car, and stood by the post to which they bound him by coiling chains about his body. The crowd excited against him assailed him with outcries and insults; but he bore them with unspeakable calmness. His tongue having been torn out, he could not speak; but his eyes were steadily fixed on heaven, as on the abode which he was about to enter, and whence he looked for help. The executioner covered his head with brimstone, and when he had finished showed him with a threatening air the lighted torch with which he was going to set fire to the pile. The young martyr made a sign that he would willingly suffer this death. 'This youth,' says Knobelsdorf, one of the eye-witnesses, 'seemed to be raised to a more than human elevation.' 'This most happy end,' says another witness, Crespin, 'confirmed those who had begun to have some sense of the truth, to which the Lord gave before our eyes a true and living testimony in the person of Claude.'[84]

James had employed his leisure hours in composing in Spanish a catechism which he thought adapted to impress on the minds of his countrymen the great truths of the Gospel. Confirmed in his faith by the martyrdom of Claude Lepeintre, weary of his Paris life, and anxious to publish his work, he went to Louvain and thence to Antwerp. This town offered facilities for printing it, and the ships bound for Spain easily conveyed the books when printed into that country. Francis, on his return from Paris, stayed for some time in Belgium, and next went to Wittenberg, where freedom of studies was possible, and where Melanchthon was to be found.

John Enzinas, the youngest of the three brothers, was also a lover of the Gospel; but he led a more peaceful life than the elder ones. He had chosen the medical profession, and had settled in Germany. He became a professor at the university of Marburg, and acquired a certain reputation by his works on medicine and astronomy, and by the invention of various instruments useful for the advancement of those sciences. But in the annals of the Reformation his name is less conspicuous than those of his brothers.

SAN ROMANO.

Another young Spaniard, like the Enzinas a native of Burgos, and a friend of theirs, was in 1540 at Antwerp, whither James had already gone, and Francis likewise was to go. San Romano, of whom we have previously made mention, had devoted himself to trade, and his business affairs had called him into the Netherlands. There was a fair-time at Antwerp, during which it was usual for the merchants of various countries to settle their accounts. As San Romano was a very intelligent young man, and was, moreover, already acquainted with the merchants of Bremen, he was commissioned by their creditors, his countrymen, to go to Bremen to claim and receive what was owing to them. Another Spaniard was associated with him. It will be remembered that Jacob Spreng, provost of the Augustines of Antwerp, had taken refuge in this town after his escape from the persecutions of the inquisitors. He was now preaching the Gospel there with much power.[85] San Romano, whose business had not concluded so quickly as he might have wished, was desirous of learning something about the doctrine which was being preached in Germany, and which was hated in Spain. Although he knew very little of German, he entered the church. He drew near, he listened, and his attention was soon riveted. To his great surprise he understood the whole sermon.[86] He was intensely interested, enlightened, and convinced. He felt pierced as by an arrow from the hand of God,[87] and was greatly moved. The orator's discourse made his heart burn within him.[88] Something new and strange was going on. No sooner was the service over than, forgetting all matters of business, he hastened to the preacher. The latter received him with much kindness and took him to his house.

There, when they were alone, San Romano recalled to Spreng what he had said, repeating the whole discourse as if he had learnt it by heart. He told him the impressions which it had produced on his heart, and thus earnestly entreated him: 'Pray explain to me more clearly this doctrine which I begin to relish, but which I do not yet thoroughly understand.' The pastor marvelled at the vehemence of the young man and at his sudden conversion. The liveliness of his new-born faith, which seemed resolved to subdue every thing, this first ardor of a striking transformation, astonished him. He counselled San Romano to restrain himself and not to fail in prudence; but at the same time he taught him carefully and kindly the great truths of salvation. San Romano remained for three days in the pastor's house. Nothing could induce him to go out. He had seemingly forgotten the business on which he had come to Bremen. A divine light shone more and more clearly in his mind. During these three days he was completely changed, like Paul at Damascus, and became a new man.[89]

When this time had elapsed, San Romano went to pay some attention to his business, entrusted it to his companion, and then several times returned to converse further with his new guide. The words of the Gospel had laid hold on him; they were his only theme of thought by day, his only dream by night.[90] He would not miss one of Spreng's sermons. When he returned to his abode he wrote them down and then read them over to the pastor. More than this—he openly professed the truth which he had learned. 'This man,' thought Spreng, 'is certainly not like the rest of the world. Other men make a gradual progress, but he has learnt all in a few days. He seems to be saturated with the Word of God, although apparently he has read so little of it. He despises the world and the life of the world; he despises every thing for Christ, whose Word he fearlessly spreads abroad.'[91] He was anxious not only for the salvation of those about him, but wrote long letters to his friends at Antwerp. 'I give thanks to God,' he said to them, 'who led me to a man by whose instrumentality I found Jesus Christ, my true Saviour, and from whom I have gained a knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, which I can not sufficiently prize.' He exhorted them all to turn to God, if they would not perish forever with those who led them astray. Lamenting the cruelty of Spain and the blindness of the Spaniards, 'Alas!' he said, 'they will not open their eyes to contemplate the glorious light of the Gospel, nor give attentive ear or mind to the manifest counsels of God who calls them to repentance.' He therefore formed a resolution. 'I purpose,' said he, 'returning to Antwerp, to see whether the light of divine knowledge may not enlighten the hearts of my friends. I shall then proceed to Spain, to endeavor to convert to the true worship of God my relations and our whole city, which is at present shrouded in the horrible darkness of idolatry.'[92] In the ardor of his first love, San Romano imagined that nothing could resist a truth, all the sweetness and power of which he himself knew so well. But, alas! it was by the flames of martyrdom that he was destined to illuminate his country.

HIS LETTERS TO CHARLES V.

His zeal no longer knew any limits. He wrote to Charles the Fifth earnestly conjuring him to acknowledge worthily the great benefits of God, by faithfully fulfilling his duty. 'Allay the dissensions of Christendom,' he said, 'that the glory of God may by your means be made manifest in the world; re-establish in Spain and in every country which is subject to your sway the pure doctrine of Christ our Saviour.' San Romano wrote thus two or three times to the emperor. At the same time he wrote some evangelical books in Spanish. All this was done in one month, or at most in forty days, while he was awaiting the answer to the letters which he had written to Antwerp.

These had been well received by his friends, and they had instantly understood from what malady he was suffering.[93] Far from thinking of their own salvation as he implored them, they only thought how to ruin him, and set all their ingenuity to work to entrap him. 'Ah!' they wrote in terms of endearment, 'if only you return to Antwerp, the great things of which you speak will, without the least doubt, be accomplished.' At the same time they came to an understanding with the Dominican monks, some of whom they appointed to watch for the moment at which he should enter the city. 'You are to seize on him,' said they, 'you are to question him about his father, and if he differs from you in the least on this subject you are to put him to death, or throw him into some pit in which he will be buried as a living corpse.'[94]

ARREST OF SAN ROMANO.

The poor man, whom the answer of his friends had filled with hope and joy, mounted on horseback, saying to himself that he should be able without great difficulty to convert all the Spaniards to the true religion. He arrived, passed the gates, and entered the town; but all at once the monks in ambush surrounded him, dragged him from his horse, and led him off as a prisoner to the house of a tradesman who was devoted to their cause.[95] There they bound him hand and foot and began searching his baggage. They found in it a good many books in German, French, and Latin; some were by Luther, others by Melanchthon, and the rest by Œcolampadius and other equally suspected authors. They even discovered, to their great horror, insulting pictures of the pope. They turned angrily to him, saying, 'Thou art a perfect Lutheran.' San Romano, having fallen so unexpectedly into an ambush, was confused, excited, and inflamed with wrath. He was a true Spaniard, calm while nothing disturbed him, but when hurt in any way, giving vent to the passions of a soul on fire. He had known the Gospel too short a time to have become wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. He was no longer master of himself. 'You are rascals,'[96] he exclaimed. 'I am not a Lutheran, but I profess the eternal wisdom of the Son of God, whom ye hate. And as to your dreams, your impostures, your corrupt doctrines, I abhor them with all my heart.' 'What, then, is thy religion?' asked the monks. 'I believe in God the Father, Creator of all,' replied San Romano, 'and I believe in God the Son, Jesus Christ, who redeemed mankind by his blood, and who by delivering them from the bondage of the devil, of sin, and of death, established them in the liberty of the Gospel.' 'Dost thou believe,' asked the monks, 'that the pope of Rome is the vicar of Christ, that all the treasures of the church are in his hands, and that he has power to make new articles of faith and to abolish the others?' 'I believe nothing of the sort,' exclaimed San Romano, horrified. 'I believe that the pope, like a wolf, disperses, leads astray, and tears in pieces the poor sheep of Jesus Christ.' 'He blasphemes!' said the Spaniards. 'You shall be put to death, and by fire,' cried the monks. 'I am not afraid to die,' replied he, 'for him who shed his blood for me.' The monks then lighted a fire; but they contented themselves with burning all his books before his face. But when he saw the New Testament thrown into the flames, he could contain himself no longer. 'He is mad,' said the Spaniards; and they carried him, bound, to a certain tower, six leagues from Antwerp, where they kept him for eight months in a dark dungeon. Admitting, however, that a want of moderation was excusable in the state of extreme agitation into which he was thrown, his fellow-countrymen caused him to be set at liberty.

San Romano then betook himself to Louvain, knowing that he should find there friends of the Gospel. Here he met with Francis Enzinas, who had not yet set out for Paris, and who, knowing the inexperience, boldness, and zeal of his countryman, and the dangers which awaited him, spoke to him frankly and wisely, advising him not to undertake, as he had purposed, the conversion of all Spain. 'Remain,' said he, 'in the calling to which God has called you; you may be able to do much good in your business. Do not set yourself to speak about religion to every person whom you meet, nor to cry out like a madman at the top of your voice in the streets and public places. Perhaps you may not be able to reply to the arguments of your adversaries, nor to confirm your own by good authorities. If God has need of you he will call you, and it will be time then to expose yourself to every peril.' 'You say truly,' replied San Romano, 'and for the future[97] I will speak more modestly.'

SAN ROMANO AT RATISBON.

But there was in this young man a fire which nothing could extinguish. His ruling passion was the desire to do every thing in his power which he believed calculated to save mankind and to glorify God. He had a wonderful fervency of spirit which prompted him to perpetual efforts, even to what many would, perhaps, call an excess of piety and charity. This has often been the case with the most eminent Christians. The words of Scripture were true of him: The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up. Scarcely had he promised Enzinas to be more prudent, when he set out with a few friends for Ratisbon, where the Imperial Diet had been opened in April (1541), and where Charles the Fifth then was. The prince was showing, as they said, much favor towards the Protestants. He desired, in fact, to obtain the support of the evangelical party for the war against the Turks, who were attacking Austria.[98] San Romano, therefore, believed the moment to be favorable for attempting the conversion of Charles. He did not mention his design to his companions. While, however, he went on his way in silence, he reasoned within himself that the truth of the Gospel was obvious, and that if the emperor, whom the Spaniards regarded as master of the world, should once receive it, he would spread it abroad throughout Christendom, and throughout the whole world. And he thought that if vulgar fears should hinder him from speaking to Charles, he would be taking upon himself an immense responsibility.

No sooner had he arrived at Ratisbon than he requested and obtained an audience of the emperor. He entreated him to make use of his power to repress the fanatical proceedings of the Inquisition. 'Sire,' said he, 'the true religion is to be found amongst the Protestants, and the Spaniards are sunk in abominable errors. Receive worthily the true doctrine of the Son of God, which is proclaimed so clearly in the Germanic churches. Repress all cruelty, re-establish the true worship of God in your states, and cause the doctrine of salvation to be proclaimed throughout the world.' Long and bold as San Romano's discourse was, the emperor listened to it very patiently. It was not mere ranting.[99] 'I have this matter much at heart,' replied Charles, pleasantly, 'and I will spare no pains for it.' San Romano withdrew full of hope.

A conference was now going on at Ratisbon between the Romanists and the evangelical party, who, at the emperor's request, were endeavoring to come to an agreement. Charles's moderation might well be the result of his desire to do nothing which might interfere with an arrangement. But no desire was manifested to render justice to the Reformation. On the contrary, Luther wrote to the Elector of Saxony: 'All this is only pure popish deceit. It is impossible to bring Christ and the Serpent to an agreement.'[100] Fanatical Catholics, both Germans and Spaniards, were already indulging in acts of cruelty towards the evangelical Christians. At this spectacle San Romano felt his hopes vanish. He did not, however, lose heart; but appealed a second and a third time with great boldness to the emperor, receiving none but gracious replies from him.

SECOND ARREST OF SAN ROMANO.

The Spaniards in Charles's suite were less politic than himself, and they displayed much irritation at the language of their countryman. When, therefore, the young Christian of Burgos desired to speak a fourth time with the monarch, they had him carried off and put into prison. Their fury rose to the highest pitch, and weary of the consideration shown to him, they were about to seize the audacious young man and throw him without further ceremony into the Danube.[101] The emperor prevented this, and ordered him to be tried according to the laws of the empire. He was then thrown into a deep dungeon, where he was kept in chains. According to some accounts, he was bound to the wheels of a chariot, dragged in the train of the emperor, and even transported to Africa,[102] whither Charles at this time betook himself on a famous expedition. This story appears to us very improbable. However that may be, on the day when he was released from prison he was cruelly bound and chained together with real criminals, without the least regard to his social position or the cause for which he had been arrested, and thus conducted on a miserable cart either into Africa or into Spain. One of the Spaniards who had accompanied him on the way from Louvain to Ratisbon approached the cart, and, surprised at the barbarous manner in which his friend was treated, asked him, 'What is the meaning of this? Why are you here in company with criminals and treated with such ignominy?' Poor San Romano, constant in his faith and hope, raised his arms as high as he could, saying, 'Do you see these iron chains? They will procure me in the presence of God greater honors than all the pomp and magnificence of the emperor's court. O glorious bonds! you will soon shine like a crown of precious stones. You see, my brother, how my arms and legs are bound and how my whole body, weighed down by these irons, is fastened to the cart, without being able to stir. But all these bonds can not prevent my spirit, over which the emperor has no authority, from being perfectly free,[103] nor from rising to the dwelling of the eternal Father to contemplate heavenly things, nor from being there continually refreshed by the sweet society of saints. Ah! would to God that the bonds of this mortal body were already severed and that my soul could even now take flight to my heavenly home! It is my firm assurance, that soon, instead of these transient chains, everlasting joy in the glorious presence of God will be given me by the just Judge.' Such was the faith of the martyrs of the Reformation. There was something within them that was free, liberrimus animus. There the emperor had nothing to command, nothing to say. Thus it was that after the night and bondage of the Middle Ages, our modern freedom took its rise. Holy and glorious origin! San Romano's friend was so astonished and touched by these words that he 'shed a torrent of tears.' His grief was so intense that he could not speak, and answered only by tears and sighs. But soon the guards, noticing perhaps this conversation, drove on at a great rate, and the friends were separated.[104]

San Romano on his arrival in Spain was delivered over to the Inquisition of Valladolid. The inquisitors threw him into a dark prison, 'a most horrible subterranean hole,' says the French translator. They subjected him to far more cruel treatment than he had ever experienced from the soldiers; and he suffered more than in the great dangers which he had incurred at sea, from the chains with which he was loaded, and a thousand other torments. This took place in 1542, and San Romano remained in prison about two years.[105]

CHAPTER IV.

THE NEW TESTAMENT IN SPANISH PRESENTED TO CHARLES THE FIFTH BY ENZINAS.

(1542-1545.)

While these events were passing, Francis Enzinas was working at Wittenberg under the eye of Melanchthon at his translation of the New Testament. The work was at last completed, and there remained only to print it and send it to Spain. For this purpose Enzinas was to go to Antwerp. He set off, therefore, from Wittenberg in the month of January, 1543, just after his friend San Romano had been confined in the dungeons of Valladolid. He first proceeded, by very bad roads, and in the midst of winter, to Embden, where he wished to see John Alasco. 'We conferred on several matters, which he has no doubt communicated to you,' wrote Francis to Melanchthon. Thence he went to the convent of Adnard, in the neighborhood of Groningen, where Hardenberg then was. This man's regard for the Gospel had abated, and he had determined to pass the rest of his days in peace in his convent. Enzinas endeavored to induce him openly to profess the doctrine of the Gospel. In this he succeeded. Hardenberg left the convent and went to Cologne. Francis went to Louvain, where he arrived in March, 1543.[106]

ENZINAS AT LOUVAIN.

The moment was not favorable. The Inquisition and the secular power itself were both preparing their terrors. There was an under-current of agitation in the city; hatred or fear was everywhere rife. Enzinas had many friends in the city; but knowing that he came from Wittenberg, and pretending that he 'smelt of sulphur,' those with whom he was most intimate, far from lavishing on him marks of tender affection, as formerly, remained mute and trembled in his presence. He well understood the reason. The very day after his arrival, the Attorney-General, Peter du Fief, cast into prison, as we have seen elsewhere,[107] all of the evangelical party who fell into his hands. An uncle whom Enzinas had at Antwerp, Don Diego Ortega, invited him to go and see him, and he was received in that town with open arms. At this period he was alternately at Antwerp, Brussels, and Louvain.

The persecution which had befallen a great number of his friends now absorbed all his thoughts; but when the storm had somewhat abated, his project of publishing his Spanish translation of the New Testament again engaged his attention. Being modest, as distinguished men generally are, he felt some hesitation when he considered how great an enterprise it was, especially for a young man like himself. 'I do not wish,' he said, 'to accomplish this work in obedience to my own impulse alone.' He therefore consulted several men belonging to different nations and eminent for their learning and wisdom. All of them approved his project, and begged him to hasten the printing. 'Since the birth of Jesus Christ,' said some of the monks, even among the superstitious, 'so great a benefit has never been offered to the Spanish people.' 'I could wish,' said another, 'to see that book printed, were it even with my own blood.'[108] Enzinas took another step even more humble, and which might have compromised him. It was necessary that theological books should receive the sanction of the faculty of theology. 'Assuredly,' said Enzinas, 'this was never required, nor ought to be required, for the Holy Scriptures. But no matter.' He sent his translation to the dean of Louvain by a monk of his acquaintance. The members of the faculty, after conferring together, replied, 'We do not know Spanish; but we know that every heresy in the Netherlands proceeded from reading the sacred books in the vulgar tongue. It would, therefore, be advisable not to furnish the common people in Spain with an opportunity of refuting the decrees of the Church by the words of Jesus Christ, the prophets, and the apostles.[109] But since the emperor has not forbidden it, we give neither permission nor prohibition.' This reply was at least candid and ingenuous.

THE SPANISH NEW TESTAMENT.

Enzinas did not pay much regard to the advice of the theologians of Louvain; but the work would have had a much larger circulation if it had been sent out under their sanction. Now both prudence and zeal incited him to do every thing to ensure the success of his enterprise. Having met with this refusal, he contented himself with communicating his manuscript to Spanish scholars, who declared that they had collated the most important passages, and had found the translation very faithful. They urged him, therefore, to hasten the publication of so beneficial a work.[110] He now went once more to Antwerp, intending to have his book printed there; but he was soon to discover that his application to the theologians of the university of Louvain, by spreading in a certain circle a report of his enterprise, sufficed to throw great obstacles in his way.

There were, in fact, at this time in the Low Countries dignitaries of the Spanish Church whose eyes were open and who would not fail to use every effort to hinder the printing of the Holy Scriptures in Spanish. Amongst others was the archbishop of Compostella, Don Gaspar d'Avalos, a man whom Spanish devotees considered, on account of the perfection of his ultramontane doctrine, as a divinity among mortals,[111] but whom men of sound judgment regarded as a fanatic. Filled with abhorrence for the holy doctrine of the Gospel, he took every opportunity of contending against and uprooting it. He was the first to oppose the translation of Enzinas. 'To publish the New Testament in Spanish,' said he, 'is a crime worthy of death.' One day, when the archbishop and the translator were both at Antwerp, the former preached. The Spaniards, who were at this time numerous at Antwerp, were present, and many others came out of mere curiosity. Enzinas slipped into the church, and, wishing to hear well, succeeded in placing himself close to the illustrious preacher. The latter, according to the taste of the Romish priests, delivered a controversial sermon, and it must be confessed that he had reasons for doing so. He thundered against the books which set forth the doctrine of the Gospel. He did not preach, said Enzinas, he vociferated, and strove by furious clamor to stir up his audience and excite the people to sedition.[112] He went even further. Without naming Enzinas, he hurled covert words at him, never suspecting that the man whom he was attacking was sitting close by him.[113]

Francis, whether after or before this sermon we do not know, went to Stephen Meerdmann the printer, and the following conversation took place:—

Enzinas: 'Are you willing to print a Spanish translation of the New Testament?'

Meerdmann: 'Quite willing; such a work is desired by many.'

Enzinas: 'Is there any need of a license?'

Meerdmann: 'The emperor has never forbidden the printing of the Holy Scriptures, and the New Testament has been printed at Antwerp in almost every European language. If your translation is faithful it may be printed without permission.'

Enzinas: 'Then prepare your presses; I take the responsibility of the translation; do you take that of the publication. Of course I bear the cost myself.'

ITS TITLE-PAGE.

There was nothing underhand in all this. The enterprise of Enzinas was well known, and some approved, while others blamed it. Any one who wished was admitted to the translator's house. One day, when he had some members of his family with him, and before he had sent the copy to the printer, an old Dominican monk, who scented some heretical design underneath it all, presented himself at his door. After the customary salutations, he took up the first page which lay on the table in manuscript and contained the title and an epistle to the emperor. The monk read: The New Testament, that is, the New Covenant of our Redeemer and only Saviour Jesus Christ. Francis had said Covenant because he had noticed that the word Testament was not well understood; and he had inserted the word only before the word Saviour to dissipate the error so common among the Spaniards, of admitting other saviours besides the Son of God. 'Covenant,' said the monk; 'your translation is faithful and good, but the word Covenant grates on my ears; it is a completely Lutheran phrase.' 'No, it is not a phrase of Luther's,' said Enzinas, 'but of the prophets and apostles.' 'This is intolerable,' resumed the monk; 'a youth, born but yesterday or the day before,[114] claims to teach the wisest and oldest men what they have taught all their life long! I swear by my sacred cowl[115] that your design is to administer to men's souls the poisonous beverages of Luther, craftily mixing them with the most holy words of the New Testament.' Then turning to the relatives of Enzinas, he began to rail like a madman, endeavoring by tragical words to excite his own family against him. Indeed, the monk had scarcely finished, when Francis was surrounded by his relatives, beseeching him, for the love of them, to erase the unlucky word. He did so, in order not to offend them, but he left standing the phrase only Saviour, to which the monk did not object. He then sent the sheets to the printer who put it to press and worked off a large number.

Having received this first printed sheet, Enzinas, through excess of caution, communicated it to a Spaniard of his acquaintance, an elderly, well-informed, and influential man. 'Only Saviour!' cried he, on seeing the title. 'If you will be advised by me, omit the word only, which will give rise to grave suspicions.' Enzinas explained his reasons. The Spaniard acknowledged the truth of the doctrine, but denied the expediency of putting it so prominently forward. The word was omitted, and the sheet had to be reprinted.[116] The whole edition was some time after ready to appear.

PEDRO DE SOTO.

It was now the beginning of November, 1543. The emperor had just made war against the Duke of Cleves, had conquered him, and had obtained by the treaty of Venloo a portion of the states of that prince. The duke's mother, the Princess Mary, a clever woman, had died of grief and indignation;[117] but the emperor was proud of his achievements, and thought only of following up his triumphs of every kind. It was to his Spanish troops in particular that Charles owed this victory. A great number of Spaniards of every rank accompanied him, and he had just appointed as his confessor a Dominican from the Peninsula, Pedro de Soto, who was afterwards the first theologian of Pius IV., in the third convocation of the Council of Trent. At this time Soto ranked, both in the Low Countries and in Germany, among the most zealous of the Romish priests. He sought to gain over ignorant minds, and knew how to insinuate himself into the good graces of the great. As he had the emperor's conscience at his disposal he 'instilled into him his venom,[118] thus perverting the sentiments of a prince who was full of clemency,' says Enzinas. But this supposed benignity on Charles's part was an illusion. Policy was his great guiding motive, and he was merciful or harsh, according as the interests of his ambition required. It is, however, true that Soto endeavored both by his sermons and otherwise to inflame men's minds, and especially that of Charles, against those whom he called heretics. Whenever the Dominican preached before Charles the Fifth and his court, he was to be seen entering the church in a lowly manner, his head sunk between his shoulders, his cowl pulled over his forehead, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his hands clasped.[119] One would have thought him a man dead to the world, who contemplated only heavenly things, and who would not harm a fly.[120] He mounted the pulpit, threw back his cowl and gravely saluted the emperor, and the princes and lords who surrounded him. Then he began his sermon, speaking with a low voice and slow enunciation, but clearly and firmly, so that his words sank the more impressively into men's hearts. He recalled with enthusiasm the religion of their ancestors and extolled the piety and zeal of Charles. Then, affecting to be more and more moved, he deplored with sighs and tears the ruin of religion and the attacks made upon the dignity of the priest, and conjured the emperor to tread in the way marked out for him by his predecessors. Having thus by feigned modesty insinuated himself into the hearts of his audience, he raised his head boldly, gave vent to the passion by which he was animated, and brought into play the powerful artifices suggested to him by the Evil One.[121] He hurled the thunders of his eloquence at his adversaries; he aimed a thousand shafts at them, and subdued his audience. But if his violence took the assembly by surprise, he shocked many, who thought with amazement: 'We might fancy we were listening to a man who had descended from the abode of the gods on Olympus to announce the secrets he had learned from Jupiter,' 'He was seized,' said one of his hearers, 'with a diabolical fury, and seemed like a priest of the mysteries, gesticulating and leaping in a chorus of the Furies.'[122] He laid siege to the mind of the emperor, and inflamed the princes with hatred of the divine doctrine. This he distorted and defamed; and he strove by all means to extinguish the salutary light of the Gospel which God had rekindled in the midst of the darkness. Turning towards the emperor and the princes, he proclaimed in a prophetic voice, that God would not be favorable to them until they should have destroyed the apostates with fire and sword. He did not conclude his discourse till he thought he had constrained his hearers by his thundering eloquence to burn all the Lutherans.

HE INSTIGATES TO PERSECUTION.

Nevertheless it was quite manifest that the emperor did not always use such diligence as De Soto demanded of him in his seditious discourses. Disquieted, therefore, and saddened because the monarch appeared 'backward to persecution,' he appealed to him in private, urging him to make confession; and it was in the retired chamber in which he received as a penitent the master of the world that he sought, by striking great blows, to drive Charles on to persecution. 'Most sacred Majesty,' he said, 'you are the monarch whom God has raised to the highest pitch of honor, in order that you may defend the Church and take vengeance on impiety, and I am the man whom God has appointed to govern your conscience. Power has been given me, as your majesty is aware, to remit and to retain sins. If your majesty does not purify the Church from pollution, I can not absolve you, ego non possum te absolvere.' He even menaced him with the anger of God and the pains of hell. Charles, who was easily intimidated—even, as we know, by the approach of a comet—'imagined himself already plunged into the abyss of hell.'[123] The monk, perceiving this, pressed his point, and did not pronounce absolution until he had extorted from the sovereign a promise to put the heretics to death.

This narrative by a contemporary appears to us perfectly authentic. There is, however, one point on which we can not follow it. We do not believe that De Soto was a hypocrite and employed fraud and treason, as this author seems to think. Charles's confessor was, we believe, a fanatic, but a sincere fanatic; he really believed himself to be prosecuting error.

No sooner had De Soto obtained the promise of Charles than he hastened to Granvella. It was said at court that these two personages had made a compact, by virtue of which the first minister never thwarted the confessor in matters of religion. It might be so; but we believe that Charles did not lightly submit his designs to the fanaticism of the priests, nor would he, we repeat, give them the rein unless it suited his policy.

On November 24, 1543, Charles the Fifth, after having signed the treaty of Venloo, entered Brussels, probably by the Louvain gate. Another personage entered the city at the same time, but by the Antwerp gate. This was Francis Enzinas. He had, as we have said, dedicated his translation to the emperor. 'Most sacred majesty,' said he in this dedication, 'owing to versions of the Holy Scriptures, all men can now hear Jesus Christ and his apostles speak in their own languages of the mysteries of our redemption, on which the salvation and the consolation of our souls depend. New versions are now continually being published in every kingdom of Christendom, in Italy, in Flanders, and in Germany, which is flooded with them. Spain alone remains isolated in her corner at the extremity of Europe. My desire is to be useful, according to my abilities, to my country. I hope that your majesty will approve of my work and protect it with your royal authority.' This dedication was dated from Antwerp, October 1, 1543.

Enzinas did not wish his book to be offered for sale until he had presented it to the emperor; and he had come to Brussels to confer with his friends as to where he would have to go and how he should proceed. As soon as he had arrived he directed his steps towards the palace, where, no doubt, one of his acquaintances resided. On approaching he saw to his great surprise the emperor himself; just arriving at court, surrounded by a numerous suite.[124] At this sight Francis greatly rejoiced. 'What a happy augury!' thought he; 'this opportune meeting should certainly give me hope that my business will succeed.'

The question now was, how to get access to Charles. Francis de Enzinas, whose family occupied an honorable position, had several distinguished kinsmen and friends at court,[125] to whom he could apply. He went, therefore, to their houses, but learned to his great disappointment that some of them had not yet arrived at Brussels; and having visited the others, he found that these great personages were infidels who scoffed at religion as something far beneath them. For them it was only an instrument of government, and they were not at all inclined to compromise themselves with the emperor by becoming patrons of Lutheranism. Enzinas withdrew, disappointed in his expectations. 'Certainly,' said he, 'I will not ask them to use their influence in favor of a work which they detest. Moreover, as I am connected with them either by friendship or by blood, I am unwilling to annoy them, or do them harm.' What, then, was to be done?

ENZINAS BEFORE THE EMPEROR.

There was one bishop at court who was in high favor with the emperor. This was Don Francisco de Mendoza, son of the first marquis of Mondejar, bishop of Jaen, a town not far from Granada and Cordova. He was a man in the prime of life, grave, candid, and open-hearted, pure in life, and a lover of piety. Enzinas went one Saturday to the palace in which the bishop lived. The latter received his young and noble fellow-countryman affectionately, and on learning that he came to speak with him about his translation of the New Testament he displayed the liveliest interest in the work.[126] 'I offer you my services in the matter,' said he, 'and I will use all my influence with the emperor, to induce him to receive your work favorably. Return to me to-morrow, and we will then see his majesty.' The next day was Sunday. A great crowd was stirring in the palace, and magnificent preparations were being made for a high mass which was to be celebrated before the emperor. There was a considerable number of musicians, instruments, and singers. Enzinas shrunk back at the sight of these preparations. 'I will return to the town to see some of my learned friends,' he said, 'and leave them to perform their play at their leisure.'

After mass he came again. The bishop sent for him and took him into a hall where a table was prepared for the emperor's dinner. Charles arrived shortly after, followed by a great number of princes and lords. He entered with much dignity and sat down to table alone.[127] The bishop and Enzinas stood opposite to him during the repast. The hall was quite filled with princes and nobles. Some of them waited at table, some poured out the wine, and others removed the dishes. All eyes were fixed upon one man alone. Charles the Fifth sat there like an idol surrounded by its worshippers. But he was quite equal to the part which he had to play. Enzinas observed attentively the gravity of his appearance, the features of his countenance, the grace of his movements, and the heroic grandeur which seemed a part of his nature. The young Spaniard was so deeply plunged in meditation that he forgot the purpose which had brought him there. At last he bethought himself of it; but the great number of princes and lords around him and the interview which he was to have with the emperor seemed to him something so extraordinary that he was seized with fear. A sense of the greatness of his cause however, restored to him some confidence. 'Ah!' thought he, 'if all the princes in the world were assembled here I should look upon them as ordained of God to bring my project to a successful issue.' Then again the thought of addressing this august, mysterious being, who sat there alone and silent, waited upon by the greatest personages of the empire, excited within him the liveliest emotion. Amidst his agitation these words of Scripture came to his mind: I will speak of thy testimonies also before kings, and will not be ashamed. These words frequently and fervently repeated in his inmost soul[128] revived his sinking courage. 'Nothing to me now,' said he, 'are all the powers of the world and the fury of men who would oppose the oracles of God.'

CONVERSATION.

When dinner was finished and divers ceremonies completed, the emperor rose and remained standing for a while, leaning on a slender staff magnificently ornamented, and as if he were in expectation that some one might wish to speak with him. The first to present himself was a distinguished general who enjoyed high authority and whose exploits rendered him dear to Charles. He delivered to him some letters, and having kissed his hand immediately retired. The bishop of Jaen was the next to come forward, holding by the hand Francis de Enzinas. The bishop, in a few grave words, recommended to the notice of Charles the work which was dedicated to him, and which was worthy, he said, of much honor. The emperor then turned to Enzinas, and the following conversation took place:—

The Emperor: 'What book do you present to me?'

Enzinas: 'The New Testament, your imperial majesty, faithfully translated by me, and containing the Gospel history and the letters of the apostles. I pray your majesty to recommend this work to the nation by your approval.'

'Are you, then, the author of this book?'[129]

'No, sire, the Holy Spirit is its author. He breathed inspiration into holy men of God, who gave to mankind in the Greek language these divine oracles of our salvation. I, for my part, am but the feeble instrument who has translated this book into our Spanish tongue.'

'Into Castilian?'

'Yes, your imperial majesty, into our Castilian tongue, and I pray you to become its patron.'

'What you request shall be done, provided there be nothing in the work open to suspicion.'

'Nothing, sire, unless the voice of God speaking from heaven, and the redemption accomplished by his only Son, Jesus Christ, are to be objects of suspicion to Christians.'

'Your request will be granted if the book be such as you and the bishop say.' The emperor took the volume and entered an adjoining apartment.

Enzinas was in amazement. The emperor to imagine that he was the author of the New Testament, and that the Gospel could contain any thing suspicious! He could hardly repress words which would have ill-suited the place where he was. 'O thing unheard of!' said he within himself, 'and enough to make one shed tears of blood!'[130] Shortly afterwards, by the bishop's advice, he returned to Antwerp.

The next day the emperor ordered the bishop of Jaen to hand over the volume to a certain Spanish monk, a very celebrated man, fully capable of judging of the translation, and to request him to give his opinion on the subject. The bishop accordingly delivered the book to this personage. Now this monk was De Soto, the confessor of Charles V. When the prelate saw the confessor again, the latter said: 'This book pleases me; I highly approve of it; there are only a few remarks of little importance to make on the translation.... I should like to see the author and speak to him about it.' Enzinas communicated the invitation which he received to go to Brussels to some of his friends and relations at Antwerp. 'Your return to Brussels,' said they, 'would expose you to great danger.[131] If you wish to fall into the hands of your enemies, go; but understand that in so doing you act with more boldness than prudence.' 'I will go,' said he, 'to render an account of my work, and this in spite of whatever may happen. I will omit nothing that is useful or necessary to the advancement of the glory of God.' He accordingly set out.

ENZINAS AND DE SOTO.

Enzinas met with the most friendly reception from the bishop of Jaen, who encouraged him with the best of hopes. The prelate, being indisposed, ordered his steward to accompany his young friend next day to the confessor's, at the Dominican convent. Enzinas went thither at eight o'clock in the morning, in order to be sure of finding him; but he was told that De Soto was at the house of M. de Granvella. This was Nicholas Perrenot de Granvella, chancellor to the emperor and father to the famous cardinal. Enzinas returned at ten o'clock, and received the same answer; at noon—still the same. 'We shall wait for him,' said Enzinas.

At one o'clock the confessor arrived, and the steward having introduced Enzinas, the monk threw back his cowl and bowed his whole body, as if worshipping a saint or saluting a prince. 'Don Francis,' said he, 'I esteem myself very happy in having the pleasure of seeing you to-day; I love you as my own brother, and I have a high appreciation of the grace which has been given you. I am naturally disposed to be fond of men of intelligence and learning, but especially of those who apply themselves to religion, literature, and the advancement of the glory of God. There is so much sloth, so much corruption in our age, that if one of our nation is raised up to promote these excellent things, it is a great honor to Spain. I offer you, therefore all that lies in my power. This is certainly the due of one by whose means the Spaniards are to recover the great treasure of heavenly doctrine.[132] But,' added he, 'I can not attend to this matter just now. Come back to me at four o'clock.' Enzinas left the monastery and went to one of his friends, a learned and God-fearing man, who implored him not to trust to the monk, for he was certain that he would have cause to repent of it. 'I will do nothing rashly,' said Francis, 'but if God should see fit to send me a cross, it will be for my good.' He returned to the convent of the Dominicans, and arrived there before the appointed time.

De Soto was giving a lesson on the Acts of the Apostles to about twenty Spanish courtiers who wished to pass for lovers of literature, or perhaps to become so. Enzinas sat down quietly beside them, happy to have this opportunity of becoming acquainted with the doctrines of the monk. He was just at that passage in the first chapter, where it is said that Judas, who had betrayed the Lord, fell headlong and burst asunder in the midst. 'Therefore,' concluded he, 'all traitors ought to be hung and rent asunder in the midst;'[133] and he exhorted his audience to fidelity towards the emperor, lest they should fall into the condemnation of Judas. Then coming to the election of an apostle by the assembly of the disciples:—'This method of election,' said he, 'was only intended for those times; since then the election has been transferred to the emperor, which is far preferable.' Besides laying down these strange doctrines, the monk spoke incorrectly and offended the ears of his hearers by low language.[134] He did not know Latin, but with a view to make what he said more wonderful, or rather more obscure, he intermingled Latin words which were worse than barbarous, and incessantly committed grammatical errors. Enzinas, with his cultivated mind and refined scholarship, suffered tortures both from the words and the matter. 'It was not without sighs and tears,' said he, 'that I listened to him.'

The lesson was finished at four o'clock. Enzinas then went up to the monk, who began anew his flattering words; but having in hand, he said, some very important business, he begged him to return at six o'clock. 'I will willingly wait at the convent,' said Enzinas, and he began to walk up and down the cloisters.

TREACHERY OF DE SOTO.

The confessor lost no time. He had gone to the chancellor Granvella. 'There is a young Spaniard here,' said he, 'who by his labors and his efforts will soon convert the whole of Spain to Lutheranism, if we do not prevent it.[135] He has resided with Melanchthon; he discusses religion, he blames the decrees of the Church, approves the sentiments of its adversaries, and is gradually alluring every one to his opinion. To spread the evil still farther he has translated the New Testament into Spanish.... If it is allowed to be read in Spain, what troubles it will cause! How many thousand souls will be perverted from the simplicity of the faith!' ... Granvella was appalled on hearing these words, and instantly gave orders to arrest Enzinas.

At six o'clock the confessor returned to the monastery and conducted Enzinas to his apartment, cajoling him on the way with honeyed and delusive words. When he had opened the door, Francis started. 'What monsters!' he thought. 'Eternal God! what a number of idols!'[136] There were four altars in the cell, and an image on each of them, St. Christopher, St. Roch, and others, enshrined in gold and surrounded by lighted tapers. Here it was that De Soto addressed his prayers to his saints.

'Don Francis,' said the confessor, 'excuse me if I make you wait still longer. I have not yet finished my devotions; permit me to conclude them while I am walking. To while away the time, here is a book, and the Bible besides.' He went out. The book was entitled: 'On the Cause and Origin of all Heresies; by Alfonso de Castro, Franciscan.' The author was an ignorant monk of Burgos, whom Enzinas knew by report. However, he opened the book. The cause of heresies, it was asserted, was the reading of the Bible in the vulgar tongue; and the author exhorted the inquisitors to prevent the Spaniards from imbibing such poison. Enzinas, disturbed and agitated, could hardly refrain from tearing the pages. He threw the book from him. Then, on reflection, he began to wonder whether the confessor were not plotting some treason, and whether his comings and goings had any other aim than that of preparing to waylay him. In order to dissipate these gloomy ideas, he took the Latin Bible and read.

After some time De Soto came in again, and taking up the New Testament which the emperor had sent to him, he requested Enzinas to sit down beside him. Then lowering his eyebrows, and wrinkling his forehead, as though to render his appearance the more formidable, he kept silence for a while. At last he began: 'Francis, we two have met here alone to confer upon the New Testament, in the presence of God, the angels, and the saints whom you behold on these altars. You regard the study of this book as profitable to piety, and I consider it injurious. Its prohibition has been the only means of preserving Spain from the contamination of sects. Francis, you have accomplished a most audacious enterprise, and done an impious deed in daring to publish a version of the New Testament in defiance of the laws of the emperor and your own duty to our holy religion. It is an atrocious crime which merits more than mere death. Further, you have been in Germany at the house of Philip Melanchthon; you extol his virtues and learning everywhere, and this alone is considered with us a proceeding worthy of capital punishment.[137] How deplorable it is that you, still so young, and only beginning your studies, should have fallen so low! It is my duty to consider the good of the church universal rather than the safety of a single man. Your crimes are so serious that I know not how you can escape the penalty with which you are threatened.' Enzinas was unspeakably grieved at this speech. So much superstition, impiety, and cruelty overwhelmed him. At the same time he knew that he could not escape the great dangers which were impending over him. In this Dominican house he breathed the heavy and deadly atmosphere of the Inquisition, and he seemed to behold around him its terrible features, its chains, and its instruments of torture.

THE MASK DROPPED.

Nevertheless he took courage and, bearing witness to the Gospel, extolled the unspeakable value of Holy Scripture, and set forth the reasons which he felt to be conclusive for reading it. 'The Old and New Testaments,' he said, 'were given to us from heaven, and there is nothing more salutary or more essential to mankind. Apart from this book we should know nothing of the only-begotten Son of God, our Saviour, who, after having redeemed us by the sacrifice of himself, raises us to heaven to live there with him forever. This is a doctrine which was never taught by any philosopher, and is only to be drawn from these sources. Without it, all human thought is blind and barren, and no creature can obtain salvation.'[138] He said that if it were a crime to go to Germany and to confer with the scholars of that country, it was a crime which had been committed by the emperor, and by many princes and excellent men who had conversed with Melanchthon, Luther, and other doctors. He was still speaking when an unpleasant apparition silenced him. The door had opened, and a monk of hideous aspect entered the cell. His eyes were fierce, his mouth awry, his aspect threatening. Every thing about him betokened a bad man, and one who was meditating some cruel purpose. It was the prior of the Dominicans. He turned towards Enzinas, and suppressing his malice, meekly withdrew his head from his cowl, saluted him, and stated that his valet was below and was come to call him to supper. This was the message agreed on between the two monks as the signal that all was ready. 'I know the way,' said Enzinas, who was bent on prolonging the interview; 'I shall find my lodging without the aid of a servant; please tell him that he may return to the house.' The prior went out. Enzinas then requested the confessor to tell him his opinion of the translation, as the emperor had asked for this, and it was indeed the object of their conference. But the signal appointed had been given, and the confessor put an end to the interview. 'It is too late now,' said he, 'come again to-morrow if it suits you.' Enzinas, therefore, fearing to be importunate, took leave of the monk, and De Soto's servant conducted him as far as the court-yard. But gloomy thoughts were crowding into his mind. As he passed through the convent he had seen a number of monks, in a state of eagerness and excitement, some going up, others going down. In their looks he saw strange agitation and fierceness. They cast upon him sidelong glances expressive of terror; they spoke low to one another, and uttered words which Enzinas could not understand.[139] It was evident that this immoderate agitation in the monastery and among the inmates was occasioned by some unusual occurrence. Francis conjectured what it might be; it began to arouse anxiety in his breast; and he wondered whether some great blow was about to fall on him.

When he reached the court-yard a man, who was a stranger to him, but who looked civil, came up and inquired whether his name was Francis de Enzinas. He answered that it was. 'I want to speak with you,' said the stranger. 'I am at your service,' replied the young Spaniard. They then passed on towards the gate of the monastery. The vast convent of the Dominicans with its outbuildings occupied a considerable part of the present site of the Mint, opposite the Theatre Royal, as well as some adjacent land. The gate by which Enzinas had to go out opened upon this place. As soon as it was unbarred he saw a large body of men armed with halberds, swords, and other weapons of war. They threw themselves upon him in a threatening manner.[140] Meanwhile the man who was in his company laid hold of his arms and said, 'You are my prisoner.' 'There was no need,' said Enzinas, 'to assemble such a troop of executioners against a poor man like me. They should be sent against brigands. My conscience is at peace, and I am ready to appear before any judge in the world, even before the emperor. I will go to prison, into exile, to the stake, and whithersoever you may please to conduct me.' 'I will not take you far,' said the unknown. 'Had it been possible to decline the mission which I am fulfilling, I assure you that I should have done so. But the chancellor Granvella has compelled me, asserting that he had received express orders from the emperor.' The prisoner, with his guide and his guards, crossed a small street, and arrived at the prison of the Vrunte, vulgarly called the Amigo, where the noble young man was confined, for having translated into good Spanish the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This took place on December 13, 1543.

ENZINAS IN PRISON.

The first four hours, from six at night till ten, were very painful. Enzinas had a lively imagination, and he saw before him great and numberless dangers, among which death seemed to be the least. All these perils were drawn up in battle array around him, and he seemed actually to see them.[141] But they did not appall him. 'How great soever may be the perils which await me,' he said, 'by God's grace I possess, for encountering them, a courage that is stronger and greater than they are.' Nevertheless, the treachery of the 'wicked monk' tormented him so much that he found it hard to endure. 'If only,' he thought, 'he had made fair war on me, if from the first he had shown himself my enemy....' He remained sunk in sorrow and dejection.

They had placed him in the apartment where all the prisoners were; but as he expressed a wish to be alone, he was conducted to an upper chamber. Weighed down with care, he was dejected and silent. The man who had brought him there looked at him and at length said, 'Of all those who have been brought to this place, I never saw any one so distressed as you. Bethink you, brother, that God our Father cares for his children, and often leads them by a way which they do not choose. Do not, therefore, be cast down, but have good courage. Your age, your manners, your physiognomy, all bear witness to your innocence. If you have committed any offence incident to youth, remember the mercy of God.' Francis listened with astonishment to the words of this man, and then related to him the cause of his imprisonment and the means by which it was effected. On hearing this, the man, whom he had taken for one of the jailer's servants, appeared to be deeply affected, and going up to Francis embraced him. 'Ah!' said he, 'I recognize in you a true brother; for you are a prisoner for the same Gospel for the love of which I have been enduring these bonds for eight months. You need not be surprised, brother; for it is a characteristic of the Word of God that it is never brought to light without being followed by thunders and lightnings.[142] But I hear some one coming up; let us say no more for the present.' This man was the pious and charitable Giles Tielmans, of whom we have formerly given an account,[143] and who was afterwards burnt. From this time he came to see Enzinas every morning and evening, and spoke to him so forcibly and so tenderly that Enzinas felt ready to suffer death to confirm the truth of the Gospel.

EXAMINATION.

On the fourth day of his imprisonment, the imperial commissioners, members of the Privy Council, came to conduct the inquiry. They entered, with great parade and a magnificence almost royal, into the place where the prisoners were assembled. All the latter rose and retired, leaving Francis alone with the commissioners.

The examination began in Latin. 'Francis,' said the commissioners, 'you are to tell us the whole truth, and in that case, although your cause is most hateful, we shall treat you with gentleness, unless we are obliged to wrest from you by force what we want to know.' They then exhibited the papers on the basis of which they proceeded to the examination. Enzinas recognized the handwriting of the confessor of Charles the Fifth. Two crimes especially formed the subject of the inquiry. 'Have you been to Wittenberg?' 'Yes.' 'Have you been acquainted with Melanchthon?' 'Yes.' 'What do you think of him?' Francis saw that he was caught, and that his answer would put into the hands of his enemies 'a knife for his own throat.' Still he did not falter. Never did this noble young man disown his friends. 'I think,' said he, 'that of all the men I ever knew he is the best.'[144] 'How can you be so impudent,' exclaimed his judges, 'as to speak thus of Melanchthon, a man that is a heretic and excommunicated?'

The commissioners now passed on to the second point. 'In your translation of the epistle to the Romans, chapter iii., verse 28,' they said, 'we find these words printed in capitals: Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law. For what reason,' they continued, 'have you had this Lutheran maxim set in capital letters? It is a very grave offence, and deserves burning.'[145] 'This doctrine was not devised in Luther's brain,' replied Enzinas. 'Its source is the mysterious throne of the Eternal Father, and it was revealed to the church by the ministry of St. Paul, for the salvation of every one who believeth.'

Meanwhile the tidings of the arrest of Enzinas had burst upon Antwerp like a bomb-shell, and spread grief among all his kinsfolk and his friends. Irritated at one time by what they called the imprudence of the young man, at another filled with compassion for the calamity which had befallen him, they went without delay to Brussels, his uncle Don Diego Ortega heading the party, and proceeded direct to the prison. 'Thou seest now,' they said to him, 'the fruit of thy thoughtlessness. Thou wouldst not believe what we told thee. What business hadst thou to meddle with theology, or to study the sacred writings? Thou oughtest to leave that to the monks. What hast thou got by it? Thou hast exposed thyself to a violent death, and hast brought great disgrace and lasting infamy upon thy whole race.' When he heard these reproaches Enzinas was overpowered with bitter grief. He endeavored by great meekness and modesty to assuage the anger of his kinsmen, and entreated them not to judge of the merits of an enterprise by its result.[146] 'I am already unhappy enough,' said he; 'pray do not add to my pain.' At these words his kinsmen were affected. 'Yes, yes,' they said, 'we know thy innocence; we are come to rescue thee if it be possible, or at least to mitigate thy suffering.' They remained, indeed, a whole week at Brussels; they went frequently to the confessor and to several great lords, and earnestly entreated that Francis might be set at liberty, and especially that the matter should not be referred to the Spanish Inquisition, since in that case his death would be inevitable. But they returned to Antwerp distressed at their failure, though not without hope.

SPIRITUAL CONSOLATIONS.

Enzinas had gradually recovered from his excitement. Books had been brought to him, and he read them diligently. There was one work especially which made a deep impression on his mind. This was the 'Supplication and exhortation of Calvin to the Emperor and to the States of the Empire to devote their utmost attention to the re-establishment of the church.'[147] This work was highly praised by Bucer, and Theodore Beza said of it that perhaps nothing more vigorous had been published in that age. 'The perusal of this work while I was in prison,' said Enzinas at a later time to Calvin, 'inspired me with such courage that I felt more willing to face death than I had ever felt before.'[148]

But his chief delight was meditation upon the Holy Scriptures. 'The promises of Christ,' he said, 'allay my sorrows, and I am wonderfully invigorated by the reading of the Psalms. Eternal God! what abundant consolation this book has afforded me! With what delight have I tasted the excellent savor of heavenly wisdom! That lyre of David so ravishes me with its divine harmony, that heavenly harp excites within me such love for the things of God, as I can find no words to express.'[149] He occupied himself in arranging some of the Psalms[150] in the form of prayers, and went on with his task till he had translated them all.

Francis was not satisfied with meditation alone; he joined with it deeds of unremitting zeal and charity. The prison discipline was not severe. The jailer, one John Thyssens, a man of about thirty-eight, had long carried on the trade of shoemaker, and had afterwards undertaken by contract the maintenance of the prisoners. He was very negligent in the discharge of his duties, and allowed a large measure of liberty to the prisoners and their friends. Inhabitants of Brabant, of Flanders, of Holland, of Antwerp, and gentlemen of the court came to visit Enzinas. In this way he saw nearly four hundred citizens of Brussels, among them some persons of quality. Many of them were acquainted with the Gospel; others were ardently longing for the word of God, and entreated Enzinas to make it known to them. He knew the danger to which he exposed himself by doing this, but he did not spare himself; and many gave glory to God because they had received from a poor prisoner the pearl of great price, the heavenly doctrine. 'There are more than seven thousand people in Brussels who know the Gospel,' they told him; 'the whole city is friendly to it;[151] and were not the people in fear of their lives they would openly profess it.' It was hardly possible to name a single town in Belgium or in Holland whose inhabitants had not a desire to converse with him. He was a captive who proclaimed liberty to free men. 'The word of God,' some of them told him, 'is making great way amongst us. It grows and spreads day by day in the midst of the fire of persecution and the terrors of death.' Both men and women sent him money, but this he declined to accept.

Charles the Fifth, who, as we have seen, had arrived at Brussels on November 24, 1543, only remained there till January 2, 1544. On February 20 he opened the diet of Spire, demanded large aids both of infantry and cavalry, and in June set out at the head of his army for France. He took Saint-Dizier, advanced within two days' march of Paris, causing great terror in that city, and concluded peace at Crépy. He then returned to his own dominions, and entered Brussels October 1, 1544.[152]

HOPES.

This news awakened hopes for Enzinas on the part of his kinsmen at Antwerp, and the most influential among them immediately set out to solicit the release of the young man. They appealed to the confessor, who was ready enough to make promises, to the chancellor Granvella, to his son the bishop of Arras, afterwards archbishop of Mechlin and cardinal, and to Claude Boissot, dean of Poligny, master of requests. They all gave kind answers, but these were words and nothing else. The queen of France visited Brussels, and a report was spread that all prisoners would at her request be liberated. Some murderers, brigands, and other malefactors were, indeed, set free; the first of them was a parricide; but Enzinas and the other evangelicals were more strictly and severely kept than before.[153] At the same time, the emperor having gone to Ghent, the monks extorted from him some laws written in blood, which were promulgated in all the towns, and which enabled them cruelly to assail the Lutherans at their own pleasure.[154] 'On a sudden there broke out in Flanders a bloody persecution, a slaughter of Christian people, such as had never been seen or heard of.' From all the towns, not excepting even the smallest, a great number of people and of leading men, on being warned of the danger which was impending over them, took flight, leaving their wives, their children, their families, houses, and goods, which were forthwith seized by the agents of the emperor. But there was a large number who could not fly. All the towers were filled. The prisons in the towns had not room to hold the victims. They brought in two hundred prisoners at a time, both men and women. Some of them were thrust into sacks and thrown into the water; others were burned, beheaded, buried alive, or condemned to imprisonment for life. The like storm swept over Brabant, Hainault, and Artois. The unhappy witnesses of this butchery asserted that 'for many ages so many and great cruelties had not been perpetrated, nor seen, nor heard of in all the world.' Such was the joyful entry which Charles the Fifth made into his good country of Flanders and the good town of Ghent, in which he was born.

Tidings of these things were brought day by day into the prison at Brussels, frequently with a large number of captives. When Enzinas and his friends heard of the slaughter they were amazed and terrified. Will there be any end to this? they asked. It might well be doubted whether such men would ever be satiated with the blood of their fellow-men! Enzinas began to regret that, from confidence in his own innocence, and for fear of bringing the jailer into disgrace, he had not availed himself of several opportunities which had offered of making his escape from prison. A circumstance which soon occurred helped to bring him to a decision.

The queen of Hungary, governess of the Netherlands, who, from a strange mixture of contradictory qualities, was desirous, while obliged to execute the persecuting decrees of her brother against evangelical Christianity, to feed upon the word of God, had chosen for her chaplain one Peter Alexander, a true Christian man. This minister faithfully confessed his trust in the Saviour, both in preaching and in conversation. 'All things needful for salvation,' he said, 'are contained in the Gospel. We must believe only that which is to be found in the Holy Scriptures. Faith alone justifies immediately before God, but works justify a man before his fellow-men. The true indulgences are obtained without gold or silver, by trust alone in the merits of Christ. The one real sin which condemns is not to believe in Christ. The true penance consists in abstinence from sin. All the merits of Christ are communicated to men by faith, so that they are able to glory in them as much as if they were their own. We must honor the saints only by imitating their virtues. We obtain a blessing of God more easily by asking for it ourselves than through the saints.[155] No one loves God so much as he ought. All the efforts and all the labors of those who are not regenerated by the Holy Spirit are evil. The religion of the monks is hypocrisy. The fast of God is a perpetual fast, and not confined to this or that particular day. It is three hundred years since the pure and real Gospel was preached; and now whoever preaches it is considered a heretic.'

THE QUEEN'S CHAPLAIN.

It was a strange sight, this evangelical chaplain preaching in the chapel of the most persecuting court in Christendom. Alexander, too, after being frequently accused, was at length obliged to hold a theological disputation with the confessor De Soto, in the presence of the two Granvellas. In consequence of this disputation proceedings were instituted against him. The confessor often came before the emperor and declared that the whole country would be ruined if this man were not severely punished. One day a friend of Enzinas came to see him in prison, and told him that the queen's preacher had fled, because he found that if he stayed an hour longer he would be ruined. Alexander was tried and burnt in effigy, together with his Latin and French books. As for himself, he became first a professor at the university of Heidelberg, afterwards canon of Canterbury cathedral, and finally pastor of the French church in London.

This flight brought Enzinas to a decision. On February 1, 1545, after sitting a long time at table at the evening meal, he felt more depressed than usual without knowing why. The clock struck, it was half-past seven. He then rose, as he was wont to do, not liking protracted meals, and began to pace up and down in a gloomy and dejected state, so that some of the prisoners came up to him and said—'Come, put away this melancholy.' 'Make you merry, the rest of you, over your cups,' he answered; 'but as for me I want air; I will go out.' No one paid any attention to what he said, nor did he himself mean any thing particular when he spoke. He continued walking about, uneasy, having some difficulty in breathing, and in great distress. He thus came to the first gate, the upper part of which, constructed of strong lattice-work, allowed him to see into the street. Having approached it for the purpose of looking out, he felt the gate stir. He took hold of it and it opened easily. The second was wide open, and the third was only closed during the night. We have mentioned the negligence of the jailer. Francis was amazed at the strange circumstance. It seemed to him that God called him; he resolved to take advantage of this unlooked-for opportunity, and went out.

ESCAPE OF ENZINAS.

He reached the street and was there alone. The night was very dark, but was lighted up from time to time by the torches of passengers traversing the streets or the squares. Enzinas, keeping a little on one side, considered where he had better go. Every refuge appeared to him open to suspicion and full of danger. Suddenly he remembered one man of his acquaintance, of Christian character, in whom he placed implicit confidence. He betook himself to his place of abode and called him. 'Come in and stay with me,' said the man. Enzinas replied that it appeared to him the safest plan to go out of the town that very night. 'Do you know,' he added, 'any part of the walls at which it would be possible to clear them?' 'Yes,' said the other, 'I will guide you and will accompany you wherever you wish to go.' The friend took his cloak and they set out. They went on their way, quite alone in the darkness, towards the walls. At night these parts were deserted. They found the spot they were seeking for, and scaled the wall. At that moment the clocks in the town struck the hour of eight.[156] Their flight had, therefore, occupied less than half an hour. These two men cleared the wall as easily as if they had prepared for it long before. Enzinas was out of the town. 'I often found help of God,' said he, 'while I was in prison; but never had I experienced it as at this moment.' He resolved to proceed that same night to Mechlin, and early the next morning to Antwerp.

A thousand thoughts thronged his mind as he went silently onwards in the darkness. The gloomy fancies of the prison-house were succeeded by joyful hopes. Much affected by his wonderful deliverance, he saw in it a mystery, a hidden will of God. 'Assuredly,' he said, 'if I am set at liberty, it is to the end that I may be ready for ruder conflicts and greater dangers,' and as he walked on he prepared himself for them by prayer. 'O Father of our deliverer Jesus Christ, enlighten my mind, that I may know the hope of my calling, and that I may faithfully serve the church of Jesus Christ even to the latest day of my life.'

Thus, sometimes praying and sometimes conversing with the brother who accompanied him, Enzinas arrived before Mechlin; but as the gates of the town were not yet opened, he had to wait a long time. At five o'clock in the morning the officers of the town appeared, and every one was free to go in or out. As Enzinas entered he saw in front of an inn a vehicle just on the point of starting, in which sat a man whose appearance was not calculated to inspire confidence. Enzinas, however, inquired of him whither he was going. The man replied, 'To Antwerp; and if you please to get up, the carriage is quite ready.' This man was an agent of the inquisitors, the secretary Louis de Zoëte. He was one of the great enemies of the Reformation; he had instituted the proceedings against Enzinas, and had mustered the witnesses for the prosecution. He was now on his way to Antwerp, as bearer of a sentence of condemnation issuing from the imperial court, by virtue of which he was to order the burning of any evangelicals then in prison. The meeting was not a pleasant one. Enzinas and De Zoëte had probably only casually seen each other. The young Spaniard, therefore, not recognizing his enemy, might with pleasure avail himself of his offer. In this case it was more than probable that he would be recognized during the journey by the police spy, whose business was to track and seize suspected persons, as a hunting dog tracks the game. Zoëte might possibly find means of adding another to the list of those whom he was going to burn alive. 'Get into the carriage,' said Enzinas to the Brussels friend who accompanied him. He got in. The door of the hotel at which Francis had knocked was not yet opened. While waiting the two friends, one in the carriage, the other in the street, were talking on various subjects; and the owner of the carriage hearing them took part likewise in the conversation. At length the door opened. 'Go with this gentleman,' said Francis to his friend; 'for my part I must travel faster, and shall go on horseback.' The people of the inn, who were acquainted with him, welcomed him with great demonstrations of joy; and on learning his position gave him a good horse. Without losing a moment he mounted and set out. He soon overtook the carriage and saluted its occupants. 'Make good speed,' said his friend. 'I will go so fast,' he replied, 'that if all the scoundrels in Brussels are determined to pursue me they shall not catch me.' It seems impossible that De Zoëte should not have heard this, and it must have given him something to think about.[157]

A LEGEND.

In two hours Enzinas was at Antwerp. Unwilling to expose his kinsmen and friends to danger, he alighted at an inn, with which he was doubtless familiar, as he had already been at Antwerp several times, and in which he believed that he should be safe. In the evening his travelling companion arrived at Antwerp. As soon as he saw Enzinas he exclaimed: 'You will be greatly astonished to hear in what company I have come, and who it is that you talked so much with at Mechlin!' 'Who was he, then?' 'The worst man in the whole country, Louis de Zoëte.' Enzinas thanked God that he had so spell-bound the eyes and the mind of the persecutor, that while he saw and spoke with him he had not recognized him. The next day two persons from Brussels, strangers to Enzinas, arrived at the inn. Enzinas meeting them at table or elsewhere, said to them: 'What news from Brussels?' 'A great miracle has just taken place there,' they replied. 'And pray what may it be?' 'There was a Spaniard who had lain in prison for fifteen months, and had never been able to obtain either his release or his trial. But the host which we worship has procured him a miraculous deliverance. The other evening, just at nightfall, the air suddenly shone around him with great brightness. The three gates of the prison opened miraculously before him, and he passed forth from the prison and from the town, still lighted by that splendor.' 'See, my dear master,' said Enzinas afterwards to Melanchthon, 'the foolishness of the popular fancy, which in so short a time dressed up in falsehood a certain amount of truth. It is quite true that three gates were found open, else I should not have got out. But as to the brightness, the light of which they speak, I saw no other than that of the lanterns of passengers in the street.[158] I attribute my deliverance not to the wonderful sacrament which these idolaters worship, but solely to the great mercy of God, who deigned to hear the prayers of his church.'

Along with this popular rumor another was current in Brussels, but in higher circles. The emperor was at this time at Brussels, which town he did not leave till April 30, 1545. Don Francis de Enzinas was not an ordinary prisoner; not a working-man, a cutler, like Giles Tielmans. An eminent family, a good education, learned attainments, talents, the title of Spaniard, and of a Spaniard highly spoken of in high places, these were things greatly esteemed by many at court. Charles the Fifth himself was far from being unconscious of their importance. He had promised his protection to Enzinas if there were nothing bad in his book, and many persons assured him that there was, on the contrary, nothing but good in it. How, then, could he put to death a scholar for having translated into good Spanish the inspired book of the Christians? According to public rumor the judges had said: 'We can not honorably extricate ourselves from this cause; the best plan is to set the man free secretly.' It was added that when the jailer had announced the flight of Enzinas to the president, the latter had replied: 'Let him go, and do not trouble about it; only do not let it be spoken of.' If this version were the true one, it would explain the circumstance of Zoëte's not appearing to recognize Enzinas. But Enzinas himself did not credit it, and it is probable that it had no better foundation than the first story.

CALVIN AND ENZINAS.

Francis remained a month at Antwerp. On his release from prison he had sent the news to his friends, and had received their congratulations. Among these friends were two of the most illustrious of the reformers, Calvin and Melanchthon, between whom, whatever may be thought of it, there were many points of resemblance. Calvin was the man, said Enzinas, whom he had always most warmly loved.[159] He had written a short letter to him, somewhat unpolished in style.[160] Calvin replied to his friend immediately in a letter which breathed the most affectionate feeling, and which Francis thought very remarkable. It praised his labors and his Christian conduct. 'Oh,' said Enzinas, 'in how kindly a manner he can speak of things which in themselves are not deserving of praise!'[161] This singular kindliness of Calvin, which then struck all his friends, has since been much called in question. Enzinas replied to him (August 3): 'Our friendship,' said he, 'is now sealed; between us there is a sacred and perpetual alliance, which can only be broken by the death of one of us. What do I say? I have this sweet hope, that when bodily ties shall be broken, we shall enjoy this friendship in a future life with more exquisite delight than we can in this mortal flesh. Not till then shall we live a life truly blessed, and one which shall endure forever in the presence of God and in the society of the holy angels. Nevertheless, while we are still in this exile, and while we labor earnestly and unremittingly in our calling, each according to the ability which he has received from the Lord, let us cultivate our friendship by fulfilling all its obligations. My dear Calvin, I have a most grateful sense of the affection which you profess for me, and I will spare no pains to make myself worthy of it. You will find in me a sincere friend.... With respect to the pamphlet which you have addressed to the States of the Empire, Luther has read it and praises it very heartily. Melanchthon very highly approves it. Cruciger is wonderfully fond of you, and can not sufficiently commend any production of yours. As to the censures of others you need not trouble yourself about them.'[162]

Enzinas not only wrote to Melanchthon, but also went to him. He arrived at Wittenberg in March, rather more than two years after leaving the town. He related in detail to his master what had befallen him, and what he had seen during these two years; and Melanchthon, struck with his narrative, begged him to write and publish it. 'An account of the cruelties practised towards Christian people in the Netherlands,' he said, 'which you have seen with your own eyes, and which you have in part experienced, for your life was in danger, might if published be of great service for the future.'[163] Enzinas at first hesitated. 'At the very time,' said he, 'when I was driven about by the fury of the tempest, I endured patiently my personal sufferings, considering them by far inferior to the perils of my brethren. How then can I, in this hour when, thanks be to God, I am in port, set myself to recount my own history, in seeming forgetfulness of the wounds of the church?' As Melanchthon pressed the point, Francis declared that he would yield in obedience to his command. The friend of Luther, thus satisfied, wrote to Camerarius (April 16, 1545): 'Our Spaniard, Francis, has returned, miraculously delivered, without any human aid, at least so far as he knows. I have begged him to write an account of these things, and I will send it to thee.' The interest which Melanchthon took in these facts perhaps justifies the place which we have assigned them in the history of the Reformation.

JAMES ENZINAS AT ROME.

Other sorrows were to overtake the Spaniards who were scattered about far from their native land. James Enzinas, the eldest brother of Francis, had hardly got his Spanish catechism printed at Antwerp before he received his father's orders to go to Rome. The ambitious father was desirous of honors and fortune for his eldest son. He was aware of James's talents, but he was unaware of his attachment to the evangelical faith, and had no doubt that if he were at Rome he would make his way to the higher dignities of the church. It was glory of another kind which James was to find there. He was bitterly grieved; he would have greatly preferred to go to Wittenberg. But his conscience was so tender, his character so simple and straightforward, his obedience to his father so absolute, that he felt bound in duty to set out for the metropolis of the papacy. There he spent two or three years, taking no pleasure in it, sorrowing over all that he witnessed, and not by any means ingratiating himself with the hierarchy. His abilities, his attainments, his character were esteemed; but he was far from gaining any thing thereby. On the contrary, melancholy, dissatisfaction, and even disgust, took possession of him at every thing around him. He saw things not only contrary to Christian truth, but contrary to uprightness and to virtue. He felt that he was in a wrong position, and entreated his father to allow him to leave Italy, but in vain. The old man, considering the path which two of his sons were pursuing in Germany, probably believed that he should at least save the eldest by keeping him at Rome. The frank disposition of James did not allow him entirely to hide his convictions, especially from his fellow-countrymen. Francis also, who knew him well, was very much alarmed about him. He had no doubt that his brother, if he remained at Rome, would be ruined. He therefore implored him to cross the Alps. James did not indulge in any delusions. He knew that, instead of the honors of which his father was dreaming, he could hope for nothing in the city of the pope but disgrace and death. He determined, therefore, to yield to the entreaties of his brother, and made ready to depart.

He might, doubtless, have quitted Rome by stratagem, and have secretly escaped. But he was too candid entirely to conceal his purpose. One of his countrymen was informed of it and hastened to denounce him to the Inquisition as a heretic. James was then arrested and thrown into strict confinement. His arrest made a great noise. A Spaniard accused of Lutheranism! A man of learning and of an ancient family opposed to the Church! An enemy of the pope living close by the pope! What strange things! The Inquisition, therefore, determined to make of this trial an imposing affair. There was 'a great assembly of the Romans' to attend at his examination. James appeared in the presence not only of the inquisitors, but also of the cardinals, bishops, and all Spaniards of eminence then at Rome, and of several members of the Roman clergy. If the popes had been unable, notwithstanding their efforts, to keep Luther in their hands, they had now at least one of his disciples in their power. James Enzinas, in the presence of this imposing assembly, perceived that God gave him suddenly, and at Rome itself, an opportunity of glorifying him and of doing, once for all, the work to which he had desired to consecrate his whole life. He took courage. He understood perfectly well that the 'lion's mouth' was opening before him, the gulf of death. But neither the solemnity of the hour, nor the brilliancy of the court, nor the thought that he was about to be swept away by a fatal stroke, nor all that was dear to him on earth, could make him swerve from the straight path. 'He maintained with great constancy,' says the chronicler, 'and with holy boldness the true doctrine of the Gospel.' He did more. Standing thus in the presence of the princes of the Roman church, and of all their pomp, he thought that fidelity required him to expose their errors. 'He forthwith condemned,' says the narrator, 'the impieties and diabolical impositions of the great Roman antichrist.' At these words a thrill ran through the assembly. The whole court was in commotion. The prelates, annoyed at what they heard, were agitated as if under the influence of some acute nervous irritation. They cried out in astonishment and anger. The Spaniards especially could not contain themselves. 'All at once, not only the cardinals, but those of his own country who were present, began to cry aloud that he ought to be burnt.'[164]

HIS MARTYRDOM.

After a little reflection, however, the court was of a different opinion. If the Spaniard should publicly condemn in Rome his so-called errors, the glory of the papacy, it was thought, would be all the greater. The speaker was surrounded and was told that if he would appear in the public square and retract his heresies, the Church would once more receive him as one of her children. His fellow-countrymen pressed around him and depicted the honors to which he might then attain. But on such a condition he would not redeem his life. He would rather glorify Christ and die. The wrath of his enemies burst forth afresh. 'These fierce ministers of all impiety and cruelty,' says the chronicler, 'became more violent than before.' James then ascended the pile, asserting with immovable courage that all his hope was in Christ. 'Unawed by the pompous display which surrounded him, and by the ostentatious devotion of his countrymen, with his heart ever fixed on God, he passed on boldly and firmly into the midst of the flames, confessing the name and the truth of the Son of God to his latest breath. Thus did this good servant of God end his life by a glorious martyrdom, in the midst of all impiety, and, wonderful to tell, in the very city of Rome.'[165]

At the news of his death his brothers and his friends were filled with sorrow. Francis at first felt only the blow which had fallen on his tenderest affections. At the very time when he was in daily expectation of embracing his brother he learnt that all that was left of him was a handful of ashes which were cast into the Tiber. This cruel death, taking place just when Charles the Fifth was endeavoring to crush Protestantism, and the black clouds which were gathering in all directions, filled him with the most melancholy thoughts. 'God is surely preparing some great dispensation of which we know nothing,' he said. All around he saw only disorder and confusion. In this hour of dejection he received a sympathetic and consoling letter from Calvin.[166] The reformer directed his friend's thoughts to the blessed life which is after death, and in which it is the privilege of the faithful to dwell with Christ. 'I am not ignorant,' replied Enzinas, 'how true are the things which you write to me. But we are men, and the infirmities of the flesh beset us. We can not, nay, we ought not, to cast off all sense of sorrow. But in the midst of this distress I rejoice that there was given to this brave Christian so much constancy in the profession of the truth, and I am persuaded that for some wise purpose my brother has been removed to that eternal assembly of the blessed, in which the loftiest spirits now greet him with this song of triumph: These are they who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.' Francis in his grief did not forget his native land. 'God grant,' said he, 'that the tidings of this divine fire,[167] wherewith my brother's soul glowed, may be diffused in every part of Spain, to the end that the noblest minds, stimulated by his example, may at length repent of the impiety in which at present they are living.' This letter from Enzinas to Calvin was written from Basel, April 14, 1547.

CHAPTER V.

FANATICISM AND BROTHERLY LOVE. JUAN DIAZ.

(1545-1547.)

ENMITIES OF BROTHERS.

History, both sacred and profane, opens, so to speak, with the enmities of brothers. Cain and Abel, Atreus and Thyestes, Eteocles and Polynices, Romulus and Remus, inaugurate with their murderous hatred the origin of human society or the beginning of empires. This remark of an eminent thinker, M. Saint-Marc Girardin, may be carried farther. In the first days of Christianity, Jesus, when announcing to his disciples the tribulations which awaited them, said: The brother will deliver up the brother to death. Similar unnatural conduct is likewise to be met with at the second great epoch of Christianity, that of the Reformation. Strange! that a doctrine so worthy to be loved should be enough to arouse hatred against those who profess it, and even hatred of so monstrous a kind as to show itself in fratricide.

Brotherly love is one of the most beautiful features of human nature. A brother is a friend, but a friend created with ourselves. Brothers have the same father, the same mother, the same ancestors, the same youth, the same family, and many things besides in common. A brother is not merely a friend whom we meet and cling to, although that is no small blessing; he is a friend given by God, a second self. But just in proportion to the sacredness of the bond of brotherhood is the depth of the evil when it is disregarded. The nearer brother stands to brother, the deeper is the wound inflicted when they clash. The noblest feelings of our nature are then trampled under foot, and nothing is left but the most egotistic, the most savage instincts. The man disappears, and the tiger takes his place. While the history of the Reformation brings before us examples of the tenderest brotherly affection, as, for example, in the case of the Enzinas, it presents us also with some of those tragic catastrophes which must draw from us a cry of horror.

JUAN DIAZ.

Among the Spaniards who were studying at Paris about 1540 there was, besides James Enzinas, a young man from Cuença, named Juan Diaz. After making a good beginning in Spain, he had gone in 1532 to complete his studies at Paris, at the Sorbonne, at the Collège Royal, instituted by Francis I. There, by his progress in learning, he had soon attained a distinguished position among the students. At first he applied himself, like a genuine Spaniard, to scholastic theology. He became intimate with one of his fellow-countrymen, Peter Malvenda, a man older than himself, and a doctor of the Sorbonne, who was subsequently much employed by Granvella and by Charles the Fifth. Malvenda was a man rich in resources, but also full of prejudices, superstitions, and the pride which is the usual characteristic of the Roman doctors. Diaz, on the contrary was characterized by great meekness, benevolence, candor and simplicity, integrity, plain-dealing, prudence and purity of life. Having a deep sense of the value of the sacred writings, he was anxious to read them in the original, and therefore studied Hebrew and Greek with unflagging earnestness. The reading of the sacred books opened before him a new world. The conflict between two doctrines which was agitating Christendom began within himself. What ought he to believe? Diligent in prayer, says one of his biographers, he very fervently prayed God to give him the pure knowledge of his holy will.[168] He became intimate with his fellow-countryman, James Enzinas, and they read the Scriptures together, James giving an explanation of them. The eyes of Diaz were opened, and the same Spirit which had inspired the sacred writers made known to him the Saviour whom they proclaimed. He clung to him by faith and henceforth sought for righteousness in him alone. He gave up the scholastic theology, embraced the Gospel, and became the associate of men who shared his own convictions. Among these were Claude de Senarclens, Matthew Budé, son of the illustrious William Budé, and John Crespin, son of a jurisconsult of Arras, advocate to the parliament of Paris. Impressed with the beauty of evangelical doctrine, Diaz was convinced that he must not hide it. He burned 'to exhibit it before the world,' he said. He felt at the same time the need of gaining more knowledge and more power, and of being strengthened in the faith by experienced teachers. He therefore left Paris and betook himself to Geneva with Matthew Budé and Crespin, 'for the purpose of seeing the state of the church in that town and the admirable order which was established there.' Diaz stayed in the house of the minister Nicholas des Gallars. This visit took place in 1545.[169]

After having conversed with the great reformer, set forth his faith, and received his approval of his doctrine as good and holy, Diaz felt it desirable to visit the evangelical churches of Germany. His stay extended to about three months, and he then went first to Basel, afterwards to Strasburg. Bucer and his friends were delighted with the young Spaniard, with his acquirements, his talents, his agreeable manners, and especially with his piety. Admitted to familiar intercourse with them, he entered more and more fully into the knowledge of evangelical doctrines and affairs. He enjoyed the conversation of these Christian people and the free and hearty manners which prevailed among them. He had no thought of quitting Strasburg; but a circumstance which occurred about six months afterwards led to his removal.

AT RATISBON.

As the Protestants declined to recognize the Council of Trent, which had been opened in December, 1545, the Elector Palatine had proposed a colloquy between the two parties, and this conference opened at Ratisbon, January 27, 1546. Bucer had been nominated one of the delegates on the part of the Reformation; and the Senate of Strasburg, judging that a Spanish convert from Catholicism to Protestantism, a man rich in knowledge and in virtue, would carry much weight in the discussion, associated Diaz with his friend. At Ratisbon, Bucer and Diaz found as champions of the papacy, Malvenda, whom Diaz had known at Paris, Cochlaeus,[170] and the Carmelite monk Billik. These three were determined to maintain the extremest doctrines of the papacy; for seeing that the council was assembled they feared that if they made any concession they would be struck with the same anathemas as the Protestants. Without hesitation Diaz went to see Malvenda. Malvenda was his senior, and he ought to pay his respects to him. Perhaps he hoped that the ties which had formerly united them would give him some hold on the mind of his countryman. Presenting himself, therefore, with one of his friends, he told him with the utmost simplicity that he was come to Ratisbon with Bucer for the purpose of defending the doctrines of the Reformation. Malvenda could believe neither his own eyes nor ears. He remained for a short time astounded, as if some monster had made its appearance.[171] The expression of his countenance and the restlessness of his movements displayed his astonishment and alarm. At length he said: 'What! Juan Diaz at Ratisbon! Juan Diaz in Germany, and in the company of Protestants!... No, I am deceived; it is a phantom before me, resembling Diaz indeed in stature and in feature, but it is a mere empty image!' The young Spaniard assured the doctor that he really was there present before him. 'Wretched man,' said Malvenda, 'do you not know that the Protestants will pride themselves far more on having gained over to their doctrine one single Spaniard than if they had converted ten thousand Germans or an in infinite number of men of other nations?' Diaz wondered at these words, for it seemed to him that the sovereign will could convert a Spaniard as easily as a German. Malvenda, then, no longer in doubt as to the real presence of Diaz in flesh and blood before him, assailed him with questions blow after blow. 'Hast thou been long in Germany? What ails thee that thou hast come into these parts? Dost thou understand the doctrine of Martin Bucer and the other Germans?' and so forth. Diaz, with more presence of mind than his master, replied quietly and modestly: 'I have been almost six months in this country. My object in coming was to see here religion established in its purity, and to confer with the learned men who are to be found here. The true knowledge of God is before every thing; and in a matter so important I would rather trust my own eyes than the false reports of evil men. I had a wish to see this poison; and as I find that the churches of Germany are in agreement with antiquity, and have in their favor the perpetual consent of the apostles and prophets, I can not reject their doctrine.'[172]

This admiration for Germany very much astonished Malvenda. 'Oh!' cried he, 'it is an exceedingly wretched lot to live in this country. For any man who loves the unity of Rome, six weeks' sojourn here is a burden as oppressive as six years; nay, say rather six centuries. Six days in Germany make me older than a long lifetime. Every honest man must beware of what is taught here. Much more must thou, Diaz, beware, who belongest to a land in which the religion of our holy mother the Church has always flourished. Respect, therefore, thine own reputation, and do not bring dishonor on thyself, nor on thy family, nor on the whole Spanish nation.' As Diaz was accompanied by one of his friends, Malvenda, embarrassed, did not pursue the subject farther. But they agreed to meet again.

Malvenda prepared to make use of his fine rhetorical powers in striking the heaviest blows for the purpose of bringing back into the Roman fold this sheep which as he thought had gone astray. When Diaz made his appearance again, this time alone, Malvenda said: 'Dost thou not perceive all the dangers which are threatening at once thy body and thy soul? Dost thou not see the formidable thunderbolts of the pope, the vicar of the Son of God, which are about to fall upon thee? And dost thou not know with what a horrible execration those are smitten whom he excommunicates, so that they become the plague of the human race? Is it well, then, to venture, for the sake of the opinion of a small number of people, to stir up sedition in all countries and to disturb the public peace? Dost thou not dread the judgment of God, and the abhorrence of all thy fellow-countrymen?' Assuming, then, the most kindly air, he continued: 'I promise to aid thee, to befriend thee in this matter to the utmost of my power. But do not wait until the emperor arrives at Ratisbon; go to meet him, cast thyself at the feet of his confessor, and entreat him to pardon thine offence.'

'I am not afraid,' replied Diaz, modestly but decisively, 'of exposing myself to danger for the purpose of maintaining the heavenly doctrine on which our salvation depends, or even of shedding my blood to bear testimony to the religion of Christ. To me this would be a great honor and a great glory.'

HIS INTERVIEW WITH MALVENDA.

Malvenda shuddered at these words. If what Diaz said was true, what Rome said was false; and yet his fellow-countryman was ready to die to testify the truth of his belief. 'No,' exclaimed the priest, 'the pope, vicar of Christ, can not err.' 'What!' resumed Diaz, 'the popes infallible! Monsters defiled within and without with enormous crimes infallible!' Malvenda acknowledged that some of the popes had led impure lives; but, as he was anxious to drop this subject, he declared to Diaz that it was mere loss of time to come to the colloquy, and that no good would arise from it. He added that if Diaz wished to do any good, he ought to go to the Council of Trent, which was established by the pope and attended by many prelates. Diaz quitted the doctor, resolved to see him no more privately.[173]

The young Spaniard had now ruined himself with the doctor. The affection which Malvenda had felt for him gave place to implacable hatred, and as he had not succeeded in gaining him over, his only thought now was to ruin him. With this view he applied to the confessor of Charles the Fifth, of whose influence he was aware. 'There is now at Ratisbon,' he wrote, 'a young Spaniard whom I once knew at Paris as an obedient son of Rome, but who now avows himself an enemy of the church and a friend of the Lutherans. If such things are permitted, Spain is lost, and you will see her claiming to shake off her shoulders the burdens with which she will profess to be overwhelmed. I implore you to avert such a calamity, even if necessary by a violent remedy.' Malvenda was not content with writing one letter. As the confessor gave no answer, he wrote other letters, 'far more harsh and violent than the first.'

De Soto had not answered at once because he was perplexed. He was quite capable of feeling the worth of such a man as Juan Diaz; and, whatever the chroniclers may have said, he had previously been struck with the excellencies of Enzinas, and had winked at his escape. Moreover, the case was one of real difficulty. Diaz, being one of a deputation sent to a colloquy approved by the emperor, was protected against violent measures, except at the cost of a renewal of the breach of faith of which John Huss had been the victim. Just at the time when the confessor received from Malvenda his last violent letter, he had with him another Spaniard, named Marquina, who was entrusted with a mission for Rome, respecting which he was conversing with the confessor. 'See,' said De Soto, 'what trouble our Spaniards give us,' and he read to him Malvenda's letter. Marquina, who was an old friend of Juan Diaz, had always looked upon him as a model of honesty and piety. He therefore said to De Soto: 'Put no faith in Malvenda's statements. He is no doubt impelled by some private ill-will. Believe, rather, the public testimonies of good men, who have at all times approved the character and the doctrine of Diaz.' But De Soto was not convinced. 'We must,' he said, 'either convert him, or get him put out of the way.' Did he mean that he was to be imprisoned or put to death? The latter seems the most probable conclusion. Nevertheless De Soto was not so black as Protestant writers depict him. In 1560 he was prosecuted by the Inquisition of Valladolid, on suspicion of Lutheranism.[174] His intercourse with such men as Enzinas and Diaz might well tend to make him afterwards more just towards a doctrine which he had at first condemned. Marquina set out for Rome.