The History of Christianity by John S. C. Abbott (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📖

that in the year 1425, forty-one years after his death, the Council of Constance pronounced his writings heretical, and ordered his bones to be taken up and burned; which sentence was executed.

John Knox, who was the most distinguished of the advocates of the Reformation in Scotland, was born of an ancient family, at Gifford, East Lothian, in 1505. In early youth he took the degree of master of arts at St. Andrew’s, and entered upon the study of theology. He soon became weary of studying the dogmas taught in the Catholic schools, and eagerly sought light in the plainer precepts of a more common-sense and practical philosophy. Thus instructed, he abandoned all thoughts of officiating in the Church of Rome, whose pageants and encroachments, both secular and ecclesiastical, disgusted him. Some of the doctrines of the reformers had already penetrated Scotland. Two of the lords who had embraced these principles employed him as tutor to their sons. Here he preached, not only to his pupils, but to others, who were drawn in ever-increasing numbers by his fervid eloquence.

The Catholic Church was still an immense power in Scotland; and Cardinal Beaton, Archbishop of St. Andrew’s, commenced proceedings against Knox, which compelled him to take shelter in the Castle of St. Andrew’s. Here, under powerful protection, he continued boldly to preach the principles of the Reformation, notwithstanding the hostility of the Papal priesthood. In July, 1547, the Castle of St. Andrew’s capitulated to the French, with whom Scotland was then at war. Knox was taken captive, and was carried with the garrison to France, where he remained a prisoner on board the galleys for nearly two years. Upon being released, he returned to London, where he recommenced preaching as an itinerant, with vehement eloquence which gave him thronged audiences wherever he went.

Upon the accession of Mary, a fanatic Catholic, to the throne of England, the most sanguinary laws were revived against the reformers. Knox fled to Geneva, and was soon invited to become the minister to a colony of English refugees at Frankfort. Notwithstanding the persecution by Mary, the advocates of the reformed religion, both in England and Scotland, rapidly increased, so that in 1555 Knox ventured to revisit his native land, and preached with increasing energy and boldness. His fearlessness won for him the admiration of his friends, and the execration of his foes. Knox being at one time absent on a visit to Geneva, the Papal bishops condemned him to death as a heretic, and burned him in effigy at the stake at Edinburgh. Knox drew up an energetic remonstrance against this condemnation of a man absent and unheard, and published a pamphlet, written in his most furious style of eloquence, entitled, “The First Blast of a Trumpet against the Monstrous Regimen of Women.” This violent pamphlet was aimed at Bloody Mary, Queen of England, and Mary of Lorraine, widow of James V., Queen-Regent of Scotland.

But the shaft aimed at Mary the Papist pierced the bosom of Elizabeth, a Protestant queen who succeeded her. This haughty princess could not forgive a man who had written a diatribe against the “monstrous regimen of women.” But Knox, surrounded by menaces, and in constant peril of liberty and life, continued fearlessly to assail the corruptions of the Church. Though the Papal powers in Scotland were sustained by the armies of Catholic France,—for Mary of Lorraine was sister of the powerful Duke of Guise,—still, marshalled under so dauntless a leader as Knox, the reformers of Scotland advanced from victory to victory. At one time he so inflamed the populace by a vehement harangue against idolatry, that the excited multitude broke into the churches, destroyed the altars, tore the pictures to shreds, dashed the images into fragments, and levelled several monasteries with the ground. These lawless proceedings were severely censured by the prominent men of the reform party in Scotland, and by the leaders of the Reformation throughout Europe.

Protestant England sent an army to aid the Protestants in Scotland. The Papal queen-regent Mary, with her army of French supporters, was driven from the kingdom; the Scottish parliament was re-established, the majority of the members having embraced Protestant opinions; the old Papal courts were abolished; the exercise of religious worship according to the rites of the Roman Church was prohibited, and the doctrine and discipline of the Presbyterian Church established as the religion of the realm.

In August, 1561, the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, arrived in Scotland to reign in her own right. She was a zealous Catholic, and immediately commenced measures to re-establish the religion of Rome throughout her dominions. Knox, from the pulpit, opened warfare upon the queen and her partisans with consummate ability, and with intrepidity which never flinched from any danger. Upon the marriage of the queen with the youthful Darnley, Knox declared from the pulpit,—

“God, in punishment for our ingratitude and sins, has appointed women and boys to reign over us.”

At length, worn out with incessant toil and anxiety, and shocked by the tidings of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, he took to his bed, and died Nov. 24, 1572, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. The most distinguished men in Scotland attended his funeral, paying marked honor to his memory. As his body was lowered into the grave, Earl Morton, then Regent of Scotland, said,—

“There lies one who never feared the face of man; who hath been often threatened with dag and dagger, and yet hath ended his days in peace and honor; for he had God’s providence watching over him in an especial manner when his life was sought.”

Robertson the historian, commenting upon the character of this illustrious reformer, remarks, with obvious truthfulness, that the severity of his deportment, his impetuosity of temper, and zealous intolerance, were qualities which, though they rendered him less amiable, fitted him to advance the Reformation among a fierce people, and to surmount opposition to which a more gentle spirit would have yielded.211

It is pleasant to turn from these scenes of sin and misery to a beautiful exemplification of true piety,—a spirit of devotion to God so true, that it is scarcely sullied by the errors and imperfections of an age of darkness.

In every denomination you can find those who are a disgrace to the cause of Christ. There was a Judas even among the apostles. In every Christian denomination you will find those who are burning and shining lights in the world; who live the life of the righteous, die the death of the righteous, and go home to glory.

About a hundred and sixty years ago, there was in the heart of Germany a young duchess, Eleonora, residing in the court of her father Philip, the elector palatine. In childhood she became a Christian,—an earnest and warm-hearted Christian. Guided by the teachings of her spiritual instructors, who, though doubtless sincere, had ingrafted upon the precepts of the Bible the traditions and superstitions of that dark age, she was taught to deprive herself of almost every innocent gratification, and to practise upon her fragile frame all the severities of an anchorite. Celibacy was especially commended to her as a virtue peculiarly grateful to God; and she consequently declined all solicitations for her hand.

Leopold, the widowed emperor of Germany, sent a magnificent retinue to the palace of the grand elector, and solicited Eleonora for his bride. It was the most brilliant match Europe could furnish; but Eleonora, notwithstanding all the importunities of her parents, rejected the proffered crown.

As the emperor urged his plea, the conscientious maiden, that she might render herself personally unattractive to him, neglected her dress, and exposed herself, unbonneted, to the sun and wind. She thus succeeded in repelling his suit; and the emperor married Claudia of Tyrol.

The elector palatine was one of the most powerful of the minor princes of Europe; and his court, in gayety and splendor, rivalled even that of the emperor. Eleonora was compelled to be a prominent actor in the gorgeous saloons of her father’s palace, and to mingle with the festive throng in all their pageants of pleasure.

But her heart was elsewhere. Several hours every day were devoted to prayer and religious reading. She kept a minute journal, in which she scrupulously recorded and condemned her failings. She visited the sick in lowly cottages, and with her own hands performed the most self-denying duties required at the bedside of pain and death.

After the lapse of three years, Claudia died; and again the widowed emperor sought the hand of Eleonora. Her spiritual advisers now urged that it was her duty to accept the imperial alliance, since upon the throne she could render herself so useful in extending the influence of the Church. Promptly she yielded to the voice of duty, and, charioted in splendor, was conveyed a bride to Vienna.

But her Christian character remained unchanged. She carried the penance and self-sacrifice of the cloister into the voluptuousness of the palace. The imperial table was loaded with every luxury; but Eleonora, the empress, drank only cold water, and ate of fare as humble as could be found in any peasant’s hut. On occasions of state, it was needful that she should be dressed in embroidered robes of purple and gold; but, to prevent any possibility of the risings of pride, her dress and jewelry were so arranged with sharp brass pricking the flesh, that she was kept in a state of constant discomfort. Thus she endeavored, while discharging with the utmost fidelity the duties of a wife and an empress, to be ever reminded that life is but probation.

These mistaken austerities, caused by the darkness of the age, only show how sincere was her consecration to God. When Eleonora attended the opera with the emperor, she took with her the Psalms of David, bound to represent the books of the performance, and thus unostentatiously endeavored to shield her mind from the profane and indelicate allusions with which the operas of those days were filled, and from which, as yet, they are by no means purified.

She translated the Psalms and several other devotional books into German verse for the benefit of her subjects. She was often seen, with packages of garments and baskets of food, entering the cottages of the poor peasantry around her country palace, ministering like an angel of mercy to all their wants.

At length her husband, the emperor, was taken sick. Eleonora watched at his pillow with all the assiduity of a Sister of Charity: she hardly abandoned her post for a moment, by day or by night, until, with her own hands, she closed his eyes as he slept in death.

Eleonora survived her husband fifteen years, devoting herself through all this period to the instruction of the ignorant, to nursing the sick, to feeding and clothing the poor. All possible luxury she discarded, and endeavored as closely as possible to imitate her Saviour, who had not where to lay his head.

Her death was like the slumber of a child who falls asleep upon its mother’s bosom. At her express request, her funeral was unattended with any display. She directed that there should be inscribed upon her tombstone simply the words,—

“ELEONORA,—a POOR SINNER.”

This brief narrative shows very truly what is the true nature of religion,—the religion of Jesus. It shows its spirit independently of all external customs and manners. No one can doubt that Eleonora was a Christian; and yet we can all see, that, in that dark age, she was not well instructed. She practised austerities which Jesus does not require; and yet who can doubt the cordiality of her welcome at the celestial gates?

She took up a far heavier cross than any which the disciples of Jesus are ordinarily required to lift. She simply did what she thought it her duty to do as a disciple of Jesus. And now, for a century and a half, she has been an angel in heaven;