LUTHER had now reached his eighteenth year. He had tasted the sweets of literature; he burned with a desire for knowledge. He sighed for a university education, and wished to repair to one of those fountains of learning where he could slake his thirst for erudition. His father required him to study the law. Full of hope in the talents of his son, he wished that he should cultivate them and make them generally known. He already pictured him discharging the most honorable functions among his fellow-citizens, gaining the favor of princes, and shining on the theater of the world. It was determined that the young man should go to Erfurt.

Luther arrived at this university in 1501. Jodocus, surnamed the Doctor of Eisenach, was teaching there the scholastic philosophy with success. Melancthon regretted that at that time nothing was taught at Erfurt but a system of dialectics bristling with difficulties. His thought was that if Luther had met with other professors, if they had taught him the milder and calmer discipline of true philosophy, the violence of his nature might have been moderated. The new disciple applied himself to study the philosophy of the Middle Ages in the works of Occam, Duns Scotus, Bonaventure, and Thomas Aquinas. In later times all this scholastic divinity was his aversion. He trembled with indignation whenever Aristotle's name was pronounced in his presence. He went so far as to say that if Aristotle had not been a man, he should not have hesitated to take him for the devil. But a mind so eager for learning as his required other ailments; he began to study the masterpieces of antiquity, the writings of Cicero, Virgil, and other classic authors. He was not content, like the majority of students, with learning their productions by heart; he endeavored to fathom their thoughts, to imbibe the spirit which animated them, to appropriate their wisdom to himself, to comprehend the object of their writings, and to enrich his mind with their pregnant sentences and brilliant images. He often addressed questions to his professors, and soon outstripped his fellow-students. Blessed with a retentive memory and a strong imagination, all that he read or heard remained constantly present to his mind; it was as if he had seen it himself. "Thus shone Luther in his early years. The whole university," says Melancthon, "admired his genius."

But even at this period the young man of eighteen did not study merely to cultivate his intellect; he had those serious thoughts, that heart directed heavenwards, which God gives to those of whom He resolves to make His most zealous ministers. Luther was aware of his entire dependence upon God, - simple and powerful conviction, which is at once the cause of deep humility and of great actions! He fervently invoked the divine blessing upon his labors. Every morning he began the day with prayers; he then went to church, and afterwards applied himself to his studies, losing not a moment in the whole course of the day. "To pray well," he was in the habit of saying, "is the better half of study."

The young student passed in the university library all the time he could snatch from his academic pursuits. Books were as yet rare, and it was a great privilege for him to profit by the treasures brought together in this vast collection. One day - he had then been two years at Erfurt and was twenty years old - he opened many books in the library one after another, to learn their writers' names. One volume that he came to attracted his attention. He had never until this hour seen its like. He read the title - it was a Bible, a rare book, unknown in those times. His interest was greatly excited and he was filled with astonishment at finding other matters than those fragments of the Gospels and epistles that the Church had selected to be read to the people during public worship every Sunday throughout the year. Until that day he had imagined that they composed the whole Word of God. Now he saw many pages, many chapters, many books of which he had had no idea! His heart beat fast as he held the divinely inspired Volume in his hand. With eagerness and with indescribable emotion he turned over these leaves from God.

The first page on which he fixed his attention told the story of Hannah and of the young Samuel. He read eagerly and his soul could hardly contain the joy it felt. The child Samuel whom his parents lend to the Lord as long as he lived; the song of Hannah, in which she declares that Jehovah "raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes"; Samuel's service in the temple in the presence of the Lord; those sacrificers - the sons of Heli - wicked men who live in debauchery, and "make the Lord's people to transgress"; - all this history, all this revelation that he had discovered, excited feelings till then unknown. He returned home with a full heart. "Oh! that God would give me such a book for myself," he thought. Luther was as yet ignorant both of Greek and Hebrew. It is scarcely probable that be had studied these languages during the first two or three years of his residence at the university. The Bible that had filled him with such transports was in Latin. He soon returned to the library to pore over his treasure, then came repeatedly, in his astonishment and joy, to read it further. The first glimmerings of a new truth were beginning to dawn upon his mind.

Thus God led him to the discovery of that Book of which he was to give the admirable translation which Germany has used for three centuries. That may have been the first time that the precious volume had been taken down from its place in the library of Erfurt. That Book, deposited on the unknown shelves of a gloomy hall, was about to become the Book of Life to a whole nation. In that Bible the Reformation lay hidden.

It was in the same year that Luther took his first academic degree - that of bachelor. The excessive labor he had expended in order to pass his examination brought on a dangerous illness. Death seemed imminent, and serious reflections occupied his mind. His case excited general interest. "It is a pity," his friends thought, "to see so many expectations blighted so early." Among the many friends who came to visit him was a venerable priest who had noticed Luther's work at Mansfeldt in his academic career. The young man could not conceal the thoughts that occupied his mind. "Soon," said he, "I shall be called away from this world." But the old man kindly replied, "My dear bachelor, take courage; you will not die of this illness. Our God will yet make of you a man who, in turn, shall console many. For God layeth His cross upon those whom He loveth, and they who bear it patiently acquire much wisdom." These words impressed Luther. When he was so near death he had heard the voice of a priest reminding him that God, as Samuel's mother said, raiseth up the miserable. The old man had poured sweet consolation into his heart and had revived his spirits; never would he forget it. "This was the first prediction that the worthy doctor heard," says Mathesius, Luther's friend, who records the incident, "and he often used to call it to mind." We may easily comprehend in what sense Mathesius calls the priest's words a prediction.

When Luther recovered, there was a great change in him. The Bible, his illness, the words of the aged priest - all seem to have made a new appeal, but as yet he had not made the great decision. Another circumstance awakened serious thoughts within him. At the festival of Easter, probably in the year 1503, Luther was on his way to pass a short time with his family. According to the custom of the age, he was wearing a sword; as he struck it with his foot, the blade fell out, cutting one of the principal arteries. His companion having dashed off for assistance, Luther found himself alone. Unable to check the flow of blood, he lay down on his back and put his finger on the wound. In spite of this, the blood continued to flow, and Luther, feeling the approach of death, cried out, "O Mary, help me!" At last a surgeon arrived from Erfurt and bound up the cut. The wound opened in the night, and Luther fainted, again calling loudly upon the Virgin. "At that time," said he in after years, "I should have died relying upon Mary." Soon after that he invoked a more powerful Saviour.

He continued his studies. In 1505 he was admitted master of arts and doctor of philosophy. The University of Erfurt was then the most celebrated in all Germany. The other schools were inferior in comparison with it. The ceremony was conducted, as usual, with great pomp. A procession by torchlight came to pay honor to Luther. The festival was magnificent. It was a general rejoicing. Luther, encouraged perhaps by these honors, felt disposed to apply himself entirely to the law. in conformity with his father's wishes.

But the will of God was different. While Luther was occupied with various studies, and beginning to teach the physics and ethics of Aristotle, with other branches of philosophy, his heart never ceased to cry to him that religion was the one thing needful, and that above all things he should secure his salvation. He knew the displeasure that God manifests against sin; he called to mind the penalties that God's Word denounces against the sinner; and he asked himself, with apprehension whether he was sure of possessing the divine favor. His conscience answered, No! His character was prompt and decided; he resolved to do all that might ensure him a firm hope of immortality. Two events occurred, one after the other, to disturb his soul, and to hasten his resolution.

Among his closest friends at the university was one named Alexis. One morning a report was spread in Erfurt that Alexis bad been assassinated. Luther hastened to ascertain the truth of this rumor. This sudden loss of his friend agitated him, and his mind was filled with keenest terror as he asked himself, "What would become of me, if I were thus called away without warning?"

It was in the summer of 1505 that Luther, whom the ordinary university vacations left at liberty, resolved to go to Mansfeldt, to revisit the dear scenes of his childhood and to embrace his parents. Perhaps also he wished to open his heart to his father, to sound him on the plan that he was forming in his mind, and to obtain his permission to engage in another profession. He foresaw all the difficulties. The idle life of the majority of priests was displeasing to the active miner of Mansfeldt. Besides, the ecclesiastics were but little esteemed in the world. For the most part their revenues were scanty, and the father, who had made great sacrifices to maintain his son at the university, and who now saw him teaching publicly in a celebrated school, although only in his twentieth year, was not likely to renounce the proud hopes he had cherished.

We are ignorant of what transpired during Luther's stay at Mansfeldt. Perhaps the decided wish of his father made him fear to open his heart to him. He again left his father's house to take his seat on the benches of the academy. He was already within a short distance of Erfurt, when he was overtaken by a violent storm, such as often occurs in those mountains. The lightning flashed - the bolt fell at his feet. Luther threw himself upon his knees, thinking that his hour, perhaps, had come. Death, the judgment, and eternity, with all their terrors, summoned him and he heard a voice that he could no longer resist. "Encompassed with the anguish and terror of death," as he expressed it, he made a vow that if the Lord should deliver him from this danger, he would abandon the world, and devote himself entirely to God.

After rising from the ground, having still present to him that death which must one day overtake him, he examined himself seriously, and asked what he ought to do. The thoughts that had agitated him now returned with greater force. He had endeavored, it is true, to fulfill all his duties, but what was the state of his soul? Could he appear before the tribunal of a terrible God with an impure heart? He must become holy. He had now as great a thirst for holiness as he had had formerly for knowledge. But where could he find it, or how could he attain it? The university provided him with the means of satisfying his first desires. Who should calm that anguish and quench the fire that now consumed him? To what school of holiness should he direct his steps? He resolved to enter a cloister; the monastic life would save him. Oftentimes had he heard of its power to transform the heart, to sanctify the sinner, and to make man perfect! He would enter a monastic order, and there become holy; thus would he secure eternal life.

Such was the event that changed the calling, the whole destiny of Luther. In this we perceive the finger of God. It was His powerful hand that on the highway cast down the young master of arts, the candidate for the bar, the future lawyer, to give an entirely new direction to his life. Rubianus, one of Luther's friends at the University of Erfurt, wrote thus to him many years later: "Divine Providence looked at what you were one day to become, when on your return from your parents, the fire from heaven threw you to the ground, like another Paul, near the city of Erfurt, and withdrawing you from our society, drove you into the Augustine order." Analagous circumstances have marked the conversion of the two greatest instruments that divine Providence has used in the two greatest revolutions that have been effected upon the earth: the apostle Paul and Luther.

Luther re-entered Erfurt, but his resolution was unalterable. It was not without a pang that he prepared to break the ties so dear to him. Telling his intention to no one, he invited his university friends to a cheerful but frugal supper. Music once more enlivened their social meeting - Luther's farewell to the world. Henceforth, instead of these amiable companions of his pleasures and his studies, he would have monks; instead of this gay and witty conversation - the silence of the cloister; and for these merry songs - the solemn strains of the quiet chapel. God was calling him, and he must sacrifice everything. Now, for the last time, he shared in the joys of his youth! The repast excited his friends; Luther himself was the soul of the party. But at the very moment that they were giving way to their gaiety, Luther could no longer hide his serious thoughts and he revealed his intention to his astonished friends. They endeavored to shake it, but in vain. That very night Luther, perhaps fearful of their pleadings, quit his lodgings, leaving behind him his clothes and books, taking only Virgil and Plautus; he had no Bible as yet. Virgil and Plautus - an epic poem and comedies - striking picture of Luther's mind! In effect a whole epic had taken place within him - a beautiful sublime poem; but as he had a disposition inclined to gaiety, wit, and humor, he combined more than one feature with the serious and stately groundwork of his life.

Provided with these two books, he repaired alone, in the darkness of night, to the convent of the hermits of St. Augustine. He asked admittance; the gate opened and closed again. Behold him, separated forever from his parents, from the companions of his studies, and from the world! It was August 17, 1505: Luther was then twenty-one years old.

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