Our heritage of civil and religious liberty is an outgrowth of the Reformation, begun in the fifteenth century. By common consent the Protestant churches confess indebtedness to Martin Luther, the principal agent raised up by God for the deliverance of his people. We gladly join our brethren of a free press and the heralds of a free gospel, in making some mention of this fourth centennial day. Want of space must greatly abridge the tribute we would bring, and forbids any attempt to weave such fitting chaplets as other hands will certainly bring to the altar.
Four hundred years ago to-day, November 10, 1483, Martin Luther was born in Eisleben, Saxony. The great German reformer, whose words shook the world, and whose power, after centuries, is felt by millions indebted to him, was of humble origin, his parents being peasants of the poorer class, but religious, honest, self-respecting people. He refers tenderly to them, and says: “In supporting their family they had a hard and bitter fight of it.” His own privations and hardships in early life were met with something of the heroism and persistence of endeavor that marked his later years. In school, though a sprightly lad, full of fun and frolic, and often corrected for his faults by a severe master, he was yet a diligent student, eager for communion with all truth. His ambition and thirst for knowledge led him gracefully to accept what was unfavorable in his circumstances, yet not passively or without methods of improving them. The spirited youth, with some others under like pecuniary embarrassments, rather than leave school, for a time sought bread in the neighboring villages, and found way to the hearts of their benefactors by singing at their doors. The songs of the boys seem to have been offered and accepted as a remuneration for the material aid they needed, and thus the depressing sense of mendicancy was not so seriously felt. He earned his master’s degree when yet young, having by his proficiency in both classical studies and philosophy attracted the attention of some scholarly men. He left school with honors, but not happy. Soon after began the great struggle of his eventful life. On a careful introspection he found in his quickened soul cravings that human knowledge could not satisfy. Educated a Catholic, and observant of all their rites and ceremonies, but finding little comfort in them, in his unrest and almost despondence, he entered a monastery, thinking by fastings, penance and prayers to find relief for a wounded conscience. The way to him was dark; the conflict terrible; the unhappy monk knew of sin, but not the Savior. The day of his deliverance was at hand, though for a time he saw but the dawn. With the Bible found in his cell as his almost only guide, he at length clearly apprehended the way of salvation by faith alone—believing he was justified. The change was great, and the whole tenor of his after life confessed it. The strong, earnest, cultured man, rejoicing now in the gospel liberty, himself baptized with the spirit and fully consecrated to work for others, was a fit instrument for inaugurating any needed reformation. Led by the spirit and ever true to his convictions, he was soon, though wishing to avoid the issue, in open conflict with the Papal authorities. How bravely, and with what results the battle was fought, is well known. It was an open, manly fight. Any disguise with him was simply impossible. He never masked his own position, nor sought to flank that of the enemy. The warfare, on his part, was honorable, but the shafts he forged were pointed, and hurled with tremendous force. His multitudinous disquisitions, essays and replies came in quick succession, as the exigencies of the controversy called for them. He wrote, any reader will say, rapidly, from the fullness of his mind and heart; and very few authors have left on their works so strong an impress of their own personality. He is perhaps best known in his “Table Talk.” There is a freshness in these off-hand sayings that is charming, and quite disarms criticism. His greatest gift to the German people was his faithful translation of the Bible into their vernacular, and his commentaries that are still held in high esteem. The reformer’s influence, great while he lived, has increased immensely during the four centuries. As a biblical critic and expositor his ability is now recognized by the general church. He held to the spiritual and supernatural in religion, but recognized the human as well as divine factor in the books of the Bible, and in that, too, the church is in sympathy with him.
THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION.
Of this question it is the political aspect which at the present time is most prominent. It is becoming a grave, disturbing force in our politics. Viewing the temperance cause in the light of political action, it is clear that it is advancing, and that those who have the cause at heart have reason to thank God and take courage. No little chagrin was felt when it was known that the noble action of the people of Iowa a year ago, in voting for constitutional prohibition, was, owing to a technicality, of none effect. But again in that great state the battle has been fought; this time in a different way. The Republican party there had the wisdom to champion the prohibition measure; this plank was squarely inserted in the party platform, and in the campaign recently closed it was the leading issue. We have the result of the election, and it should give the friends of temperance encouragement and hope. A second time this righteous principle has triumphed. The Republican party has won the day, and if its avowed purpose is redeemed in the State of Iowa, the sale of strong drink will soon be made a crime. We turn to the state of Ohio, and here, too, we see sure tokens that the temperance cause is moving forward. The confession comes from prominent politicians, that if, in Ohio as in Iowa, their party had adopted prohibition it might have been better. This was not done; but the question in the late election was submitted to a popular vote and the result, all things considered, is most encouraging. Some sanguine people may have had faith that the prohibitory amendment would be carried, but perhaps the number was not large. That it received the great vote it did in a state where the liquor interest is of such magnitude and so strongly intrenched, is something to cheer and make thankful the hearts of good people.
One does not need the vision of a prophet to see that the day of the triumph of prohibition in our country is coming on. The right is to win. The time is in the not-distant future when state laws and state constitutions will say that men shall not make their living by pandering to the depraved appetite of fellow men. The rum-seller’s business will be made illegal and criminal. Even those who are looking forward to the prohibition of the liquor traffic by the national constitution will not long be called fanatical and visionary. But meanwhile other work for temperance besides that looking to this condition of things, so much to be desired, should not be neglected. Personal effort to preserve the youth and reclaim men is always demanded. People are clearly in error who say: “Prohibition or nothing.” Laws whose aim is the curtailing of liquor selling, should be sought, enacted, sustained and enforced as better than none at all. Until we can have prohibition, let us have as stringent restrictive enactments as possible. It is a short-sighted view of things which prompts such a sentiment as this: “If we can not have prohibition, let us have free rum.” The adage of the “half-loaf” and the “whole” is full of sound wisdom. We can but think there are earnest temperance men who make a grave mistake. Prohibition—unquestionably the true measure to apply to the liquor traffic, and for whose adoption we should persistently work—fills their minds and hearts. They bend their energies to secure this. But for other legal measures, falling short of this desideratum, and aiming only to restrict the wretched traffic, they have no support. Everywhere restrictive liquor statutes are seen very imperfectly executed for want of interest and determined effort on the part of temperance people, whose rigid enforcement would work a grateful change in our communities. If the law says that the saloon shall not be opened on Sunday; that it shall be closed at a certain hour of the night; that intoxicants shall not be sold to youth under a certain age, or by any provision looks to the diminution of the great curse of our people, it should be regarded as good so far as it goes, for so much of prohibition as it contains, and should have the support of good citizens, though their hope looks and their labors are directed to the total prohibition by law of the sale of strong drink as a beverage. To make the best and most of what we have is the true policy in every issue of life. If we can not have prohibition now, we can see that our laws are enforced. When they are thoroughly enforced, we will be much nearer prohibition.
AN EXTRA DAY IN THE CALENDAR.
“There is an island off the coast of New Zealand where the day of the week changes. There Saturday is Sunday, and Sunday, Monday. When Sunday noon closes, Monday noon begins. A man sits down to his dinner Sunday noon, and it is Monday noon before he is done eating.”
A correspondent sends us the above statement and asks, is it correct? We answer: Not to the islanders, who, as ourselves, have but 365 solar days in a year. But to a stranger coming there on his voyage round the world, who has 366 at his disposal, it is true. He has one day to spare, has no name or place for it in the week, and just drops it out of his reckoning, as though it had never been. The explanation is simple enough, even for the young. The revolution of the earth on its axis, from west to east, once in 24 hours, gives the sun an apparent motion round the earth from east to west. To us the sun rises and sets. The succession of day and night is just the same as if the sun really went round the earth. As the sun’s apparent motion is from east to west, a man traveling eastward, at whatever speed, will see the sun rise, reach the meridian, and set, a little sooner each day than the day before. So the time indicated by his watch, and that by the sun will differ more and more as he goes on; and what he gains each day in time will evidently be to a solar day, as the distance traveled is to the earth’s circumference. One degree east will make a difference of four minutes, fifteen degrees an hour, one hundred and eighty degrees twelve hours. Having reached the one hundred and eightieth meridian, his chronometer and the sun are just twelve hours apart, so he changes his reckoning, to avoid confusion, and at noon Sunday calls it Monday. The correction is of course too much, but if he waits till beyond that time it amounts to more than half a day, and is constantly increasing. If the error is to be corrected all at once—and this is the only way that is found practicable—it should be done when it amounts to half a day. When he has completed the circuit of the earth a whole day will have been gained. If another man, from the same place of departure, go west, or with the sun, he will lose a day, and the two meeting would be, if neither had changed his reckoning, two whole days apart—yet each had the same number of hours and minutes. He who had the greater number of days had them just so much shorter. There is, of course, no reason in the nature of things, why the days of the week should be changed on the one hundred and eightieth meridian rather than elsewhere. There must be some point from which longitude is reckoned, and to avoid confusion English and American navigators agree on Greenwich, near London, and their nautical charts, almanacs, etc., are arranged accordingly. If they had taken as their starting point Washington, the one hundred and eightieth meridian would have been west of where it is, the number of degrees between the places.