CHAPTER I.
Count De Maistre somewhere says that during the last century a reputation was made much in the same manner as you make a shoe, "Au dernier siècle, on faisait une réputation comme on fait un soulier."
The manufacturing process indicated by De Maistre was known and practised long before the last century, and is even at the present time by no means to be counted among the lost arts. This very day the reader may look around him and easily find numerous specimens of the peculiar industry here described. And going back two hundred years, we may, out of many cases, select that of a learned, laborious, self-sacrificing and pious man, who, driven to a premature grave by ingratitude, neglect, and calumny, has been falsely handed down to posterity as untruthful, dishonest, brutal, and grossly immoral. His transmitted reputation was not the reflection of his deeds. It was manufactured of shreds and patches. Dying in the disgrace caused by the displeasure of the prime minister of a powerful monarch, it would have been remarkable, indeed, had any one at that day so forgotten himself as to become the advocate of a cause hopelessly lost. And so his enemies had a clear field.
Writers of history and biography of the years immediately succeeding took their word, and subsequent biographers and historians had merely to repeat what their predecessors had said. His story is fraught with more than one moral, and the impressive vindication of his character after the silence of two centuries has something in it that seems higher than mere human agency.
John Michael Wansleben was born at Sommerda, near Erfurth, November 1st, 1635. His father was the Lutheran minister of the place. At a proper age he was sent to the University of Erfurth, and afterward completed his studies at the University of Königsberg in 1656. He held for a short time a position as private tutor, and entered the army of the Elector of Brandenburg in 1657, serving as a private soldier through the campaign of that year.
With some idea of embracing a commercial career, he then visited Schleswig, Amsterdam, Glückstadt, and Hamburg, but without result, and returned to Erfurth in 1658. Job Ludolf, a distinguished savant of Erfurth, was then in the meridian of his fame. Ludolf had been sent to Rome in 1649, to make search for the memoirs of John Magnus, Archbishop of Upsal, a man noted for his learning and piety, who, after an unsuccessful struggle against the kingly power of Gustavus Vasa, and the introduction of Lutheranism into Sweden, retired to Rome, where he died. Ludolf, failing to find the memoirs he sought, remained some time in Rome, occupied in the study of the Ethiopian tongue. He was, unquestionably, a man of remarkable acquirements, and was in his day credited with knowing twenty-five languages.
Vansleb[102] attracted the attention of Ludolf, and was received by him partly as a pupil, partly as an assistant, specially devoting himself, by Ludolf's direction, to the study of the Ethiopian language. In 1661, when he was thought sufficiently advanced, Ludolf sent him to London to supervise the publication of his Ethiopian dictionary. Vansleb performed his task, and the dictionary was published the same year. At this time, the English polyglot edition (six vols. folio) of the Bible, by Walton, Bishop of Chester, was in course of publication. There was in that day no dearth of imitators of Cardinal Ximenes. Although bearing the name of Walton, it was the work of several learned men, and its oriental versions were copied from the Bible of Le Jay, (Paris.) Distinguished among its collaborators was Edmund Castell, Canon of Canterbury, an oriental scholar, who afterward published his Lexicon Heptaglotton, the fruit of eighteen hours' daily labor for a period of seventeen years.[103] Castell met with Vansleb, and engaged him as his assistant, taking him into his house and admitting him to his table. For three years and a half Vansleb labored with Castell, who thus mentions him in the preface to his Lexicon: "In ethiopicis per idem tempus operam impendebat suam D. M. Wanslebius, qui ad perpoliendum in eisdem ingenium in varias orientis oras, longa atque periculosa suscepit itinera."[104]
Returning to Germany, Vansleb found that Ludolf, as the tutor of the young princes of Saxony, had obtained great credit and influence with Duke Ernest, surnamed the Pious. Ludolf had long cherished the singular project of bringing about an alliance between some German prince and the King of Ethiopia, (modern Abyssinia,) and by dint of long conferences on the subject with the duke, had succeeded in enlisting Ernest's enthusiastic interest in his plan. This it was:
An ardent champion of what is called Luther's Reformation, he was assiduous in seeking for it moral support wherever it could possibly be found. He imagined that he saw a certain degree of conformity between Lutheranism and the Coptic rite, and the idea of the appearance of antiquity the new religion would receive from a union with one of the oldest oriental churches was more than enough to awaken his warmest enthusiasm. Ludolf, moreover, hoped, through superior German civilization, that Protestantism would be enabled to exercise a decided influence upon the retrograde population of Abyssinia.
The duke fully entered into all these views with the most sanguine hopes.
The better to appreciate Ludolf's project, let us take a rapid glance at the history of Abyssinia and its condition at that time.
Ethiopia embraced Judaism during the reign of Solomon, following the example of Queen Sheba, who, according to the best authorities, was sovereign of that country.
It was also one of the first nations converted to Christianity through the baptism of the treasurer of Queen Candace, by the Deacon Philip. (Acts of the Apostles, viii. 27-38.) And this result was predicted by God. Ethiopia præveniet manus ejus Deo.[105] (Psalm lxvii. 32.) In the fifth century, Ethiopia was drawn into the Eutychian heresy, and, under the name of Jacobites, her people to this day persevere in it.
In the sixteenth century, the Portuguese having rendered some signal service to the reigning king, they obtained from him authority allowing Jesuit missionaries to enter the country. They did so enter, and made numerous conversions. But persecution undid their work. Catholicity was placed under ban, the faithful pursued, and the dispersed missionaries put to death. The two last Jesuits, who remained with their neophytes, were taken and hung in 1638. Others sought to penetrate Abyssinia; but all who entered the country were arrested and decapitated. The king, Basilides, was the most furious in persecution. He persuaded himself that the king of Portugal was organizing against him a league of all the monarchs in Europe. The very name of Catholic was made treasonable; and he sent his own brother to execution simply on suspicion of leniency to the hated religion.
It was mainly from his enmity to it that he permitted, contrary to law, the introduction of Mohammedanism, and even sent for doctors to preach it to his people. These so-called "disasters of the papacy" were far from being a subject of grief to the German reformers, particularly to those inspired with the desire of proselytism. Duke Ernest was called the Pious, and was now fired with the ambition of adding illustration to his surname.
The circumstances looked favorable in the highest degree. Any thing was sufficiently recommended to King Basilides if it were only anti-Catholic; and therefore, the success of the Protestant mission was a foregone conclusion.
But who could be found capable of executing such a mission? He should be, independently of the requisite religious qualification, a person of experience and superior education—at once a man of the world and a scholar—and more, an oriental scholar.
"I have him here in Erfurth," said Ludolf to the duke; "an alter ego, as familiar as I am with the language, literature, and customs of the Ethiopians."
He referred, of course, to Vansleb, who was already fully advised in the matter from long conferences with Ludolf.
Duke Ernest assumed all the expenses of the mission, drew up the necessary instructions, and traced the itinerary to be followed.
Vansleb was to make his way to Egypt, and thence to Abyssinia, with no more apparent object than the ordinary curiosity of a traveller desirous of studying the language and the natural history of the country. In case he found influential men favorably disposed, he was to advise them confidentially that a German prince named Ernest, who held the Abyssinians in high esteem, as well for their warlike qualities as for their attachment to the ancient faith of their fathers, had given him letters for them in their own language, and that he was willing to make the necessary advances in money to bring to Europe a certain number of well-disposed young Abyssinians desirous of instructing themselves as to the condition of the Christian reformed churches, and thus bring about, between the two peoples and confessions, a sincere and lasting friendship.
In every respect the proposition suited Vansleb. The arrangement was soon completed, and he was invested with all the necessary powers of an ambassador, but in a disguised and indirect form, with special instructions not to exhibit his credentials until fully satisfied that his advances would be met.
The result of this remarkable embassy is soon told. Ludolf himself relates that he does not know whether to attribute the failure of a plan conceived with all possible prudence to the parsimony of the duke or to the imprudence of Vansleb. That Ludolf, who, after this period, never hesitated to paint Vansleb in the blackest colors, should make it a matter of doubt, is quite enough to justify the latter.
And now let us accompany Vansleb on his route to Ethiopia. He reached Cairo in January, 1664, and spent a year in visiting Egypt, and in studying and copying Abyssinian books. The Coptic Patriarch of Alexandria, Matthew de Mir, whose jurisdiction extended over the churches of Ethiopia, dissuaded Vansleb from attempting to penetrate that country, and he addressed Duke Ernest a letter in Arabic, giving the reasons for his advice, which letter is still preserved in the ducal library of Saxe-Gotha.
And now the grand project of Ernest was visited—humanly speaking—with poetic justice. The Coptic patriarch, who was pleased with Vansleb, obtained from him an exposition of the history of the reformation and of Lutheran doctrine, and Vansleb, instructed in return, could, as he listened to the patriarch, compare the German novelties with the antique symbol of the oriental communions. The result was inevitable, and he began to see a light that illuminated his mind and made evident his errors. He soon afterward embarked for Italy, fully resolved to seek admission to the Catholic Church.
Landing at Leghorn, he went to Florence, where he spent some time, and was protected by the prince, who was afterward Cosmo (de' Medici) III. Here, also, he made the acquaintance of the British ambassador, Finch, whom he subsequently met at Smyrna. Going to Rome, he there abjured Protestantism, was received into the church, and entered the Dominican convent of the Minerva. This order, specially devoted to teaching and preaching, was best suited to his tastes and habits.
And here, for a period of four years, Vansleb disappears from the world and from history. He passed them in solitude, exclusively occupied with study and religious exercises.
Meantime, imagine, if you can, the storm that broke at Erfurth. Duke Ernest was bitterly disappointed, as was natural; but it would be difficult to describe the fury of Ludolf. It burst forth never to be extinguished but with his death. Vansleb, so warmly recommended by Ludolf to the duke, suddenly became a monster not only of ingratitude, but of every other possible vice. There were no limits to the abuse nor to the accusations of the angry professor.
All this did not then trouble Vansleb, but he was made to feel their effects long afterward.