The hand of Providence

by J. H. Ward

The Reformation promoted national growth, and mental activity. During the middle ages, the various nations of Europe were in the condition of colonies to a vast religious empire whose center and seat of government was Rome. But after the peace at Augsburg, 1555, all this was changed. Each nation that accepted the Reformation, became socially and religiously as well as politically free. Rome was shorn of her power. She was no longer the supreme court of appeal; nor did the high dignitaries of those realms look to her for preferment.

The Reformation was obviously only partially successful. Where it succeeded it infused new energy; where it failed it produced reaction. Those nations that rejected the light, glimmering though it was, fell back into the double bondage of kingcraft and priestcraft. The Bastile of France was a symbol of the one; the Inquisition of Spain a type of the other. Wave after wave of revolution has swept over these unhappy countries. The guilty streets of Paris and Madrid have been deluged with blood until their population has sunk down into religious apathy or brazen infidelity.

In no particular was the effect of the Reformation more apparent than in the impulse it gave to national languages and literature. Latin had been the language of the Roman empire and Roman church. But when the nations revolted from this central authority they immediately began to cultivate their own native tongues. Learning was no longer confined to the few, nor communicated through the medium of a foreign language, but became the heritage of the people.

The crowning work of Luther was in giving to the German people his German Bible and hymns. The earnest, vigorous German in which they were written fixed the future style of the language. The classic German of to-day is the German of Luther's Bible, and Luther's hymns.

In England, too, the same thing is to be marked. The English translation of the Bible, together with other works of that era, such as Shakspeare's dramas, Milton's poems and Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, have done more to stamp the character of our modern English than all later publications.

It may be asked, Why did not the human mind, in this era, free itself from its trammels, claim its true freedom and concede it to every one? The answer is, the range of knowledge was too narrow. The minds of men could not take a broader view of things than the horizon of their knowledge let them. Ignorance and superstition still held a terrible sway.

It is true that the whole character of that age bears the stamp of the German rather than the Italian intellect. It was the energy of a Luther, the learning and loving heart of a Melanchthon, the polished wit of an Erasmus, which then gave impulse and direction to the thoughts and opinions of the world, much more than the frivolous jesting of the infidel priests who thronged the streets of Rome and the halls of the Vatican. Yet even these great men were controlled by superstition, to a very great extent. Witchcraft was universally believed in at that time. Hundreds, aye thousands, of unoffending old women, with no other fault than that they were poor and old, were burned to death as witches, instead of being treated with that respect due to those who have lived many years and spent their best days for the good of others.

Social eminence was no safeguard against these delusions. When it was affirmed that Agnes Sampson, with two hundred other witches, had sailed in sieves from Leith to North Berwick church to hold a banquet with the devil, James I., had the torture applied to the wretched woman, and took pleasure in putting appropriate questions to her. It then was charged that the two hundred old women had baptized and then drowned a black cat, thereby raising a dreadful storm in which the ship that carried the king narrowly escaped being wrecked. Upon this, Agnes was condemned to the flames. She died protesting her innocence, and piteously calling on Jesus to have mercy on her for Christian men would not.

Of all the early reformers, Luther and Melanchthon were perhaps the freest from superstition, and yet even they devoutly believed that in the Tiber, not far distant from the pope's palace, a monster had been found having the head of an ass, the body of a man and the claws of a bird. After searching their Bibles to find out what the prodigy meant, they at length concluded that it was one of the signs and wonders which were to precede the fall of the papacy, and published a pamphlet about it. Yet Luther and Melanchthon were the leaders of a great movement, the teachers of a great nation, and were in every respect the most influential persons in that nation. The people, credulous and grossly ignorant, listened and believed. We, at this distance of time and living in another realm of thought, can form but a faint conception of the effect these horrible conceits produced upon them.

But the greatest need of those times was the want of divine authority. The writings of Luther, Melanchthon, Erasmus and Calvin were never considered as inspired. Luther himself never professed to have divine authority for his teachings; but on the other hand denounced the very idea of inspiration.