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 {100} 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.