his temper; they ought to be charged, in part, on the manners of the age. Among a rude people, unacquainted with those maxims, which, by putting continual restraint on the passions of individuals, have polished society, and rendered it agreeable; disputes of every kind were managed with heat, and strong emotions were uttered in their natural language, without reserve or delicacy. At the same time, the works of learned men were all composed in Latin, and they were not only authorised, by the example of eminent writers in that language, to use their antagonists with the most illiberal scurrility; but in a dead tongue, indecencies of every kind appear less shocking than in a living language, whose idioms and phrases seem gross, because they are familiar. In passing judgment upon the characters of men, we ought to try them by the principles and maxims of their own age, not by those of another; for although virtue and vice are at all times the same, manners and customs vary continually. Some parts of Luther's behaviour, which appear to us most culpable, gave no disgust to his contemporaries; it was even by some of those qualities, which we are now apt to blame, that he was fitted for accomplishing the great work which he undertook. To rouse mankind when sunk in ignorance or superstition, and to encounter the rage of bigotry armed with power, required the utmost vehemence of zeal, as well as a temper daring to excess. A gentle call would neither have reached, nor have excited those to whom it must have been addressed; a spirit more amiable, but less vigorous than Luther's would have shrunk back from the dangers which he braved and surmounted. Towards the close of Luther's life, though without any perceptible diminution of his zeal or abilities, the infirmities of his temper increased upon him, so that he grew daily more peevish, more irascible,

and more impatient of contradiction. Having lived to be a witness of his own amazing success; to see a great part of Europe embrace his doctrines, and to shake the foundation of the papal throne, before which the mightiest monarchs had trembled, he discovered, on some occasions, symptoms of vanity and self-applause. He must have been indeed more than man, if, upon contemplating all that he actually accomplished, he had never felt any sentiment of this kind rising in his breast. Some time

before his death, he felt his strength declining, his constitution being worn out by a prodigious multiplicity of business, added to the labour of discharging his ministerial function with unremitting diligence, to the fatigue of constant study, besides the composition of works, as voluminous as if he had enjoyed uninterrupted leisure and retirement. His natural intrepidity did not forsake him at the approach of death; his last conversation with his friends was concerning the happiness reserved for good men in a future life, of which he spoke with the fervour and delight natural to one who expected and wished to enter soon upon the enjoyment of it. The account of his death filled the Roman Catholic party with excessive as well as indecent joy, and damped the spirits of all his followers; neither party sufficiently considering that his doctrines were now so firmly rooted, as to be in a condition to flourish independent of the hand which first had planted them. His funeral was celebrated, by order of the elector of Saxony, with extraordinary pomp. He left several children by his wife, Catherine a Boria, who survived him. Towards the end of the last century, there were in Saxony some of his descendants, in decent and honourable stations.

DON JOHN DE PADILLA.

THE government of Charles soon became so unpopular to the Castilians, that they took arms with tumultuary violence, to obtain redress of their grievances. The chief leader in these insurrections was Don John de Padilla, the eldest son of the commendator of Castile, a young nobleman of a generous temper, of undaunted courage, and possessed of the talents as well as of the ambition, which, in times of civil discord, raise men to power and eminence. Upon his first attack, he forced the royal troops to retire with the loss of their baggage and military chest. To establish union of council and operation, a convention was assembled at Avilla, who assumed the name of the Holy Junta, who swore that they would live and die in the defence of the privileges of their order. Padilla at their head, they disclaimed the authority of the regent, seized the person of Joanna, and for a while conducted their operations in her name as queen of Spain. The jealousies of the junta having deprived him of the command, and transferred it to Don Pedro de Giron, his conduct soon convinced them of the impropriety of their choice, and the command was again restored to Padilla, who was the darling of the people and soldiers. He led them from victory to victory, until disconcerted by the unsteady conduct of the junta, he was constrained to give battle in unfavourable circumstances, and was wounded and taken prisoner; his principal officers shared the same fate; the resentment of his enemies did not suffer Padilla to linger long in expectation of what should befall him. Next day he was condemned to lose his head, though without any regard to trial, the notoriety of the crime being supposed sufficient to supersede the formality of a

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legal process. He was led instantly to execution, together with Don John Bravo, and Don Francis Maldonado. Padilla viewed the approach of death, with calm, but undaunted fortitude; and when Bravo, his fellow sufferer, expressed some indignation at hearing himself proclaimed a traitor, he checked him, by observing "that yesterday was the time to have displayed the spirit of gentlemen, this day to die with the meekness of christians.' Being permitted to write to his wife, and to the community of Toledo, the place of his nativity, he addressed the former with a manly and virtuous tenderness, and the latter with the exultation natural to one, who considered himself as a martyr for the liberties of his country. After this he submitted quietly to his fate.

DONNA MARIA PACHECO.

SHE first appears on the page of history, displaying singular wisdom and bold enterprise. The junta were in want of money to pay their troops, and every resource had failed. From this difficulty, says our historian, they were extricated by Donna Maria Pacheco, Padilla's wife, a woman of noble birth, of great abilities, of boundless ambition, and animated with the most ardent zeal in support of the cause of the junta. She, with a boldness superior to those superstitious fears, which often influence her sex, proposed to seize all the rich and magnificent ornaments in the cathedral of Toledo ; but lest that action, by its appearance of impiety, might offend the people, she and her retinue marched to the church in solemn procession, in mourning habits, with tears in their eyes, beating their breasts, and falling on their knees, implored the pardon of the saints, whose shrines she was about

to violate. By this artifice, which screened her from the imputation of sacrilege, and persuaded the people that necessity and zeal for a good cause constrained her, though with reluctance, to venture upon this action, she stripped the cathedral of whatever was valuable, and procured a considerable supply of money for the junta. The regents, no less at a loss how to maintain their troops, the revenues of the crown having either been dissipated by the Flemings, or seized by the commons, were obliged to take the queen's jewels, together with the plate belonging to the nobility, and apply to that purpose; and when those failed, they obtained a small sum by way of loan from the king of Portugal,

The greatness of her mind displayed itself with peculiar lustre upon the untimely and violent death of her husband, who, instead of bewailing him with a womanish sorrow, prepared to revenge his death, and prosecute that cause in defence of which he had suffered. Respect to her sex, or admiration of her courage and abilities, as well as sympathy with her misfortunes, and veneration for her husband, secured her the same ascendant over the people which he had possessed. The prudence and vigour with which she acted, justified that confidence they placed in her. She wrote to the French general in Navarre, encouraging him to invade Castile, by the offer of powerful assistance. She endeavoured by her letters and emissaries to revive the spirit and hopes of the other cities; she raised soldiers, and exacted a great sum of money from the clergy belonging to the cathedral, in order to defray the expense of keeping them on foot. She employed every artifice that could interest or inflame the populace. For this purpose, she ordered crucifixes to be used instead of colours, as if they had been at war with infidels and enemies of