authority was a shadow. In Spain he was absolute sovereign, and if he had gone with the Reformers against the Pope, he would have lost the hearts of his hereditary subjects, Luther was not to find a friend in Charles, but he was to find a noble enemy, whose lofty qualities he always honoured and admired."

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Charles was crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle, on the 28th January, 1521, and thereafter proceeded to Worms, to hold the first Diet of Sovereigns and States of Germany. To this Diet Luther was summoned amid his own fears and the fears of those who remembered the fate of Huss. He, however, was quite calm. "I will go if I am to be carried sick in my bed, I am called of the Lord, when the Kaiser calls me. I trust only that the Emperor of Germany will not begin his reign with the shedding of innocent blood, I would rather be murdered by the Romans." The first move of his opponents was to secure his condemnation without a hearing, but this, through the influence of the Elector Frederick and others, they were not able to manage.

He and his friends set out from Wittenburg with the good wishes of all their fellow townsmen, in a carriage provided by the municipality, and their progress through the country was one of triumph. Several incidents give human interest to the journey. The people assembled round the hotels where he rested, to cheer and encourage him. At Nuremberg a friend gave him a portrait of Savonarola, urging him "to be manful for the truth, and to stand by God, and God would stand by him." At Weimar, in answer to an inquiry if he felt his danger, he replied, "I will go although they should kindle a fire between Wittenberg and Worms to reach to heaven." When even Spalatin desired to dissuade him from going further he said, "I will go if there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles npon the house-top. Though they burnt Huss they could not burn the truth."

He preached at Erfurt, "and a crowd of tender associations rushed upon his mind as he gazed at the Convent the scene of his spiritual birth; and as he stood by the grave of one of his former companions, a brother monk, "How calmly he sleeps! and I--," was his remark to Jonas, while he leaned the upon gravestone absorbed in thought, until warned of the lateness of the hour." At Eisenach he fell ill, but was not discouraged. When the city of Worms came in sight, it is supposed by some, that, standing up in his carriage, he sang his famous hymn-" Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott," the Marsellaise of the Reformation, as it has been called. On the 16th of April he entered Worms, and a trumpet blast proclaimed that he had arrived. The Elector had provided him with a residence, but

there were few to welcome him-only one of the princes, Philip, Landgrave of Hesse, spoke to him. "Dear Doctor, if you are right, the Lord stand by you." And as he entered the assembly and came into the presence of the Emperor, surrounded as he was by Spanish priests and nobles, and the dukes and barons of Germany, George of Freundsberg touched him on the shoulder and said, "Little monk, little monk! Thou hast work before thee that I and many a man, whose trade is war, never faced the like of. If thy heart is right and thy cause good, go on in God's name. He will not forsake thee."

It was a memorable occasion, and must have been a picturesque scene. "The sun, verging to its setting, streamed full on the scene of worldly magnificence, strangely varied by every colour and form of dress: the Spanish cloak of yellow silk, the velvet and ermine of the Electors, the red robes of Cardinals, the violet robes of Bishops, the plain sombre garb of deputies of towns and priests." On the one hand the pride, the pomp, the power of the world and the greatest Church in it! On the other, a solitary, low-born, peasant monk-pale with care, illness, and study! "No wonder," Mr. Froude says, "the appearance of Luther on this occasion is one of the finest, perhaps the very finest, in human history. Many a man has encountered death bravely for a cause which he knows to be just, when he is sustained by the sympathy of thousands, of whom he is at that moment the champion and the representative. But it is one thing thus to suffer, and another to encounter face to face, and single handed, the array of temporal and spiritual authorities which are ruling supreme. At first it seemed as if he might almost waver. He was asked by his old opponent Eck if the books on the table before him were his? In a low voice, he replied that they were. He was asked again, whether he was ready to retract them? He begged for time and was allowed a night for consideration. His opponents were jubilant—his friends despondent. But, next day he was brave in the strength of his convictions! The only admission he would make was that he may have been too hard in his attacks against particular persons. admit it.

If fault could be proved, he would "Would he retract the heresies of which the Council of Constance had condemned him?" An answer "without horns" was demanded, "Yes," or "No." Then he spake these brave words "I will give you an answer which has neither horns nor teeth! Popes have erred, and Councils have erred. Prove to me that I am wrong, and I submit. Till then my conscience binds me. Here I stand! I can do no more. God help me.- -Amen."

With these words he won his victory. His brave

mien, his true courage, his humble dependence upon God, brought him much sympathy. Neither Charles nor the princes of Germany cared to violate their promise of safe conduct; and, while some shouted that he ought to be sent to prison, and others that the Rhine ought to receive his ashes he was allowed to go back in safety to his hotel. He found awaiting him there a present from the aged Duke of Brunswick—a silver can of Einbech beer, and as in his weariness he drained it, he said-" As Duke Eric has remembered me this day, so may our Lord Jesus Christ remember him in his last struggle." Many men came to see him: some to congratulate and encourage him-others to ascertain his views, and urge his submission to the Emperor. The gist of all his declarations was that he acknowledged no authority but Scripture. On some one asking him if he knew of any remedy for the unhappy dissensions that had sprung up? He replied, "I know not of any, except the advice of Gamaliel-'If this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought. But, if it be of God! ye cannot overthrow it.' Let the Emperor and the States write to the Pope that they are fully assured that if the doctrines so much derided are not of God, they will perish by a natural death within two or three years."

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Margaret: Saint and Queen.

By the Rev. R. HERBERT STORY, D.D., Rosneath.

IKE all good women, Margaret first shed her influence on her own home Malcolm, with the big head, lived among his rugged chiefs, with little of the grace or culture of a Court about him or his retainers. Hard fighting and rough living were more familiar to them than domestic quiet or social intercourse. Ignorance, lawlessness, and superstition abounded. Even the king, though he could speak both the Latin and Saxon tongues, could neither read nor write.

Into this rude and churlish circle Margaret, like a second Una, brought the unconscious charm of her own purity, piety, and refinement. Her religion was the ruling principle of her life; and it was not with her, as it was with the later queen, whose name alone has left a deeper mark on Scottish annals, a ritual and a policy-it was a force-a passion. It was in most of its outward features very different from the religion of our day, which has, perhaps, lost as much in spiritual intensity as it has gained in intellectual breadth. Her love of relics, and special devotion to the jewelled crucifix, with its shred of the true cross,

which accompanied her from Hungary, and which was reverenced for generations in Scotland as the "Black Rood;" her washing and kissing the feet of the poor; her night-long vigils in the Church, "herself assisting at triple matins-of the Trinity, of the Cross, and of St. Mary and afterwards repeating the Psalter, with tears bedewing her raiment, and upheaving her breast,"

these bear to us, whose theory and practice are less rigorous and more "enlightened," an aspect of almost superstitious zeal. We are tempted to think of her, as of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, as a morbid devotee : yet the religion thus expressed was of the sincerest and most self-sacrificing character, and fitted to impress the reckless spirit of the age as no less demonstrative devotion could have impressed it. It wrought upon the bold and generous nature of the king like a humanising spell.

Fearless and warlike in the field, and ready as ever to encounter the foe, he set the example in his palace of the decorous and charitable life of a Christian knight. The queen's advice and wish were his domestic law. "What she eschewed he was wont to eschew; and, in his love, to love whatever she loved." He helped her in attending to her poor; and when these came in greater crowds, he would have them ushered into the inner court, and the gate shut, so that no one but a few monks and servants should see the alms they received, or the services rendered to them. And if sometimes the good queen, in her lavish almsgiving, exceeded her own resources and appropriated some of her husband's, the king "on discovering his loss would merely tax her laughingly with the theft." He learned from her to be regular and earnest at his prayers, and every morning he attended matins and the celebration of the mass. He never rectified his early neglect of letters, and to the end of his life could not read the Latin Bible, and other books in which Margaret took great delight; but he used to have these volumes clad in the richest binding, and emblazoned with gold and gems, and would kiss and fondle them as his wife's pets. This proof of his regard was no doubt very acceptable to Margaret, for with her religious zeal she combined a marked admiration for what was costly and ornate in garniture and raiment. Probably it was both to please a natural taste, and with the view of correcting the coarse simplicity of the royal appointments, that she introduced the use of gold and silver plate at table, of vestments of fine foreign cloth and varied dyes, and largely increased the number of the attendants on herself and the king. Her own attire was magnificent, and the old colourless homeliness of the royal entourage gave place to the pomp and splendour of a dignified

Court. There was in reality no inconsistency between this and the profusion of her religious services and the humility of her good works. She felt that the squalid and comfortless domestic life of the Scotch would benefit by the stately and ornate example of her palace. There is no divorce between religion and beauty, and no connection between dirt and godliness. The piety and the dignified lustre of her life at once. fostered religion and purified manners. The home of the king of Scotland, under her influence, began for the first time to wear the aspect, never afterwards lost, of the residence, not of a mere chief amidst his retainers, but of a feudal sovereign, surrounded by the chivalry of a settled and polished Court.

Margaret bore King Malcolm eight children-six sons and two daughters. The eldest daughter, Edith, after being educated in the Convent of Romsey, of which her aunt Christina was the abbess, married Henry the First of England; and, having changed her name to Matilda, or Maud, out of compliment to his mother, came to be known among "a grateful people" "a grateful people" as "Good Queen Maud." The younger daughter, Mary, married Eustace, Count of Boulogne, and left an only child who, like her aunt, became the wife of an English king-Stephen of Blois.

It is an incidental proof of Margaret's domestic ascendancy that all her sons' names seem to have been her own choice. Edward, Edmund, Ethelred, and Edgar, were all named after kinsmen of her own; Alexander, after the Pope; and David's name had become fashionable with pious mothers in those days. Edward, the eldest son, fell in battle beside his father; Ethelred became Abbot of Dunkeld and Earl of Fife; Edmund, "the only one who fell away from goodness," is said to have at last hidden his failures and his penitence in an English cloister. The three others lived to wear in succession the Scottish crown, and not only so, but to illustrate in their own careers the principles they had learned from their mother. Margaret had not, like modern mothers and pedagogues, outlived Solomon's faith in the virtues of the rod. While she ruled her whole household carefully, obliging her. many ladies-in-waiting to spend their leisure in useful needlework, and to avoid all frivolity and indecorum, she governed her children with special firmness. Her mere look was enough to check anything unbecoming; and they grew up under the wholesome, if somewhat grave and austere, influence of this pure and noble presence. She took care that they should acquire all the learning that became their station, and she enjoined their monkish tutors to enforce strict discipline and attention, by corporal chastisement whenever it was necessary. Thus trained the young princes and

princesses became patterns of intelligence and good conduct, and "the fierce light that beats upon a throne" discovered no stain or blot on name and fame.

In two wide spheres beyond the palace gates the influence of Margaret was soon recognised as "quick and powerful." These were the national policy and the Church.

At so great a distance we cannot trace her presence amongst the people, as we can in a later era trace Mary's, as she moved about from the Border to the Grampians now at the banquet or the dance-now on her palfrey "fleeting like a beam of light" in the gay cavalcade or merry chase. Only here and there a vestige or a tradition recalls some ancient progress of Malcolm and his Queen-such as that, for instance, which connects the arms and motto of the Leslies with a royal visit to the Garioch. Many refugees of the Saxon party, among others "old uncanonical Stigand," had either accompanied or followed the Aetheling to Scotland. One of those was Bartolfwhom some suppose to have been an early Hungarian friend of the Saxon family. He won the hand of Malcolm's sister, Beatrix, and in pursuance of the King's sagacious policy of inducing the more civilised strangers to settle amongst his subjects, Bartolf was endowed with broad lands (part of which remain still in his descendants' possession) in Inverurie, Aberdeenshire. Bartolf was also Chamberlain to the Queen, and, as such, the duty and honour fell to him of carrying Her Majesty on a pillion, behind his saddle, when she travelled. In one of her journeys, presumably when she and her husband had come to visit their friend in his stronghold of Inverurie, as Bartolf and the queen were crossing a stream "she was in danger or fear of falling, and Bartolf, whose belt she held by, said to her, Grip fast;' to which the queen replied, 'Gin the buckle bide.' The Leslies of Balquhain still carry for their arms argent on a fess azure, three buckles or, with the motto, "Grip fast."*

But though no longer traceable in her "going out and coming in" among her subjects, Margaret has left her mark deep and clear upon the internal policy of her husband's long and energetic reign.

The two principles she held by were industry and order. It is somewhat difficult after more than seven centuries to distinguish, with exactness, between the measures of Margaret and those of her illustrious and like-minded son David, but we are tolerably certain that the spirit which originated the policy that was carried to its completion by the son was the mother's; and that he,

See the very interesting and exhaustive History of Inverurie and the Earldom of the Garioch, by the Rev. Dr. Davidson, Minister of Inverurie.

like his father, had learned the truth of the old Saxon belief that "something divine dwelt in the counsels of woman," and especially of this one woman. While Malcolm strove to consolidate the royal power and to extend the area in which it was supreme, Margaret invited the settlement within that area of her own countrymen, and others from foreign lands, whose industry and skill stimulated those of the natives, and gradually raised the character and the value of Scottish produce and handicraft. She did all that royal patronage could do to encourage traders from Continental ports to visit Scotland. To the impetus thus given to commerce and manufactures is directly referable the growth of those burghs and guilds, to which David afterwards granted charters, and which became the nursing mothers of traffic and enterprise, and of civil liberty and popular rights.

Although the formal and regular administration. of justice, and the construction of a code of laws were, in Margaret's day, still but promises of the future, the idea of them was familiar to her love of order and of peace; and here, too, David was afterwards able to realise the prophetic visions of his mother. We trace to her the beginning and suggestion of the great popular movement, if we may so call it, which by degrees was to substitute the robust and practical civilisation of the Anglo-Saxon for the more visionary and graceful culture of the Celt; to introduce, among the less coherent elements of national life in Scotland, the Norman system of organisation and of feudal interdependence, and thus out of the cluster of tribes and races, over which Malcolm's predecessors had held uncertain sway, to form one homogeneous nation. All this, perfected by David, was commenced by Margaret; and we do not wonder that her pious son, recognising in her the good genius of his life and of his kingdom, should, when his end was near, have bidden his servants carry him to offer a last prayer before the Black Rood,* that was linked in many a sacred memory with the thought of his wise and saintly mother's devotions.

It was as a Church Reformer Margaret achieved her greatest work.

The Whitby Conference in 664, from which Colman of Lindisfarne retreated indignantly to Iona, committed the Anglo-Saxon Church to the discipline and unity of Rome. The Church in Scotland remained true to the traditions of Columba, and long continued to exhibit the Celtic characteristics, with which his apostolic force and fervour had imbued it at the first. A darkness, which none of our lights can dispel, broods

A crucifix of gold, about the length of a palm: the figure of ebony, stadded and inlaid with gold. A piece of the true cross was enclosed.

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over the Scottish Church in the ninth and tenth centuries. As Margaret's era approaches dawn begins to break, and we see the Church still Celtic in character, though more tinged than of old with Roman ideas and practices, and materially strengthened by the possession of substantial temporal endowments. The centres of such religious life and light as existed were the Culdee Colleges or Convents-Saint Andrews, Lochleven, Monymusk, Abernethy, Dunkeld, Dunblane, and others. There were bishops, but they had no dioceses, and there were no parishes or parish priests. clergy were inert and superstitious. The lamp of learning no longer burned in their cloisters. They had fallen behind the age. Isolated from the general interests and movements of the Church Catholic, the Scottish Church, which has, in its later age, been so often rent with schisms, then stood in peril of the sectarianism of tribal and local rivalries, and the jealous blight of an unenlightened provincialism. Usage was lax-authority was vague-life was indolent thought was unproductive. Not only the Church but Religion was in danger, and Margaret set herself to the task of reformation.

One might have expected that the churchly zeal of a queenly devotee would have shown itself in lavish endowments or benefactions to the clergy. But Margaret and her husband did comparatively little for the Church in the way of bestowing worldly goods. We associate with her name the " Reilig Odhrain," which preserves at Iona the site of Columba's original cell, and where Margaret's care repaired the ravages of the Norsemen. Besides this, we can trace to her only the Benedictine Monastery at Dunfermline, and the tiny Norman Chapel, still called by her name, and crowning the highest peak of the rock that holds. Edinburgh Castle.*

Her love of the Church and religion was manifested in a more thoughtful way than in mere buildings and gifts. The richer a corrupt Church is, the more infectious grows the corruption. Margaret knew she might leave the endowing of the Church to her children, if she helped to make it worthy of their love and care. Her concern was to reform its usages and to regulate its orders into harmony with the discipline of Rome. She began with the practical point of erroneous usage. As, perhaps, was natural in a female reformer, questions of mere ritual were dealt with as earnestly as those of deeper moral meaning. One of her most solemn conferences with the clergy was occupied with the discussion of the right day for

This little oratory has been recently "restored," but with no taste. The last time I was in it the only furniture was a deal table, at which an elderly person, who acted as show-woman, sold photographs. The religio loci is not understood in Edinburgh Castle.

beginning the austerities of Lent-in the practice of which the queen was rigidly scrupulous. The king acted as interpreter between her and the Celtic priests, who knew no Saxon, and for no less than three days "did she employ the sword of the Spirit in combating their errors." "Often," says Turgot enthusiastically, "have I heard her, with admiration, discourse of subtle questions of theology, in presence of the most learned men of the kingdom." So gifted a royal disputant was certain to prevail, and Margaret's three days' debate ended in her persuading the clergy to forsake the ancient usage, and to adopt that which Rome had introduced about 200 years before, of beginning Lent on Ash Wednesday, instead of on the Monday following Quadragesima Sunday.

The Lord's Day had come to be little regarded. The people went about their work and their pleasure on that day, as on any other day of the week. The queen remonstrated and urged until the day was kept with decent propriety, as a day of rest and of religious observance.

(To be Continued.)

Anthony Trollope's Youth.

BY PRINCIPAL TULLOCH.

UTOBIOGRAPHY is the order of the day. Carlyle drew his own character, if also many other characters, in his Reminiscences; Bishop Wilberforce photographed his disappointed ambitions, and jealousies unworthy of himself, in the rapid Diary, heedlessly published by his son; and now we have a formal'autobiography' from the pen of the many-volumed novelist who so lately left us. Nothing can be more characteristic than these volumes.* Trollope, the writer, is depicted in every page; and in the first volume, which is much the more interesting of the two, Trollope the boy, and the young man is especially set before us. There has seldom been drawn a more vivid and frank picture of a forlorn boyhood, and an apparently good-for-nothing youth. The author sketches himself with the same analytical and pitiless frankness with which, for example, he paints Johnny Eames in the "Small House of Allington." The youth, Anthony Trollope, as he stood in the somewhat severe judgment of the successful novelist is indeed in many ways the photograph of Johnny Eames. All will remember how Johnny was entrapped in the toils of Amelia Roper. The youthful Trollope suffered in the same manner. A young woman in the country had taken it into her head that she would like to marry him. No young man, the novelist says, could have been "less to blame" in such a matter

* An Autobiography of Anthony Trollope, 2 vols., Blackwood & Sons.

than he was. But his "Amelia" and her mother thought differently, and he was pursued by many letters representing his perfidy, and the obligations under which he had come. At last the mother appeared at the Post Office, and the supreme moment of ludicrous torture, which awaited him, can only be described in the words of the autobiography. "My hair almost stands on end now, as I remember the figure of this woman walking into the big room, in which I sat with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket under her arm, and an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man in, and. walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud voice-Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?' We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These little incidents were all against me at the office."

There was much indeed against Trollope, all through his boyhood and youth. He "was always in trouble," as he himself says. His father was a Chancery barrister, who had been a Wykamist, and a Fellow of New College. He was adjudged by those competent to know, to be "an excellent and most conscientious lawyer." But he had an execrable temper, which "drove the attorneys from him." "In his early days he was a man of small fortune, and of higher hopes;" but what with bad temper and bad farming for like many men who could not succeed in his own profession, he thought he might succeed as a farmer he gradually immersed himself in difficulties, which compelled his retreat across the channel. His farm proved ruinous-his clients, who were never many, deserted him-an old uncle, whose heir he was to have been, married and had a family. When Anthony was seven years old, the family had descended to a mean and small house, on the farm the father had tried to cultivate, in the vicinity of Harrow, to which school the boy was sent. His description of what he suffered, both at Harrow and Winchester, to which he afterwards went, are far from creditable to either school-and it is to be hoped that his sensitive feeling and imagination may have somewhat exaggerated his sufferings. He admits that his appearance was against him, and his idleness incorrigible, yet he pictures a singular lack of chivalry on the part both of masters and boys. Walking through the muddy lanes to school, with seldom "much in the way of clothes," he cannot have been a nice-looking boy; but that was no reason why the headmaster, Dr. Butler, "with all the clouds of Jove on his brow, and all the thunder in his