him was so important because here too he set free the conscience of the individual and put everywhere in the place of compulsion from without, against which selfishness had defiantly rebelled, a self-control in harmony with the spirit of the individual.  How beautiful is his conception of the necessity of training children by schooling, especially in the ancient languages!  How he recommends the introduction of his beloved music into the schools!  How large is his vision when he advises the city-councils to establish public libraries!  And again, how conscientiously he tried, in matters of betrothal and marriage, to protect the heart of the lovers against stern parental authority!  To be sure, his horizon is always bounded by the letter of the Scriptures, but everywhere there sounds through his sermons, his advice, his censure, the beautiful keynote of his German nature, the necessity of liberty and discipline, of love and morality.  He had overthrown the old sacrament of marriage, but gave a higher, nobler, freer form to the intimate relation of man and wife.  He had fought the clumsy monastery schools; and everywhere in town and hamlet, wherever his influence was felt, there grew up better educational institutions for the young.  He had done away with the mass and with Latin church music; he put in its place, for friends and foes alike, regular preaching and German chorals.

As time advanced, it became ever more apparent that it was a necessity for Luther to perceive God in every gracious, good and tender gift of this world.  In this sense he was always pious and always wise—­when he was out-of-doors, or among his friends, in innocent merriment, when he teased his wife, or held his children in his arms.  Before a fruit-tree, which he saw hanging full of fruit, he rejoiced in its splendor, and said, “If Adam had not fallen, we should have admired all trees as we do this one.”  He took a large pear into his hands and marveled:  “See!  Half a year ago this pear was deeper under ground than it is long and broad, and lay at the very end of the roots.  These smallest and least observed creations are the greatest miracles.  God is in the humblest things of nature—­a leaf or a blade of grass.”  Two birds made their nest in the Doctor’s garden and flew up in the evening, often frightened by passers-by.  He called to them, “Oh, you dear birds!  Don’t fly away.  I am very willing to have you here, if you could only believe me.  But just so we mortals have no faith in our God.”  He delighted in the companionship of whole-souled men; he drank his wine with satisfaction, while the conversation ran actively over great things and small.  He judged with splendid humor enemies and good acquaintances alike, and told jolly stories; and when he got into discussion, passed his hand across his knee, which was a peculiarity of his; or he might sing, or play the lute, and start a chorus.  Whatever gave innocent pleasure was welcome to him.  His favorite art was music; he judged leniently of dancing, and, fifty years before Shakespeare, spoke approvingly of comedy, for he said, “It instructs us, like a mirror, how everybody should conduct himself.”