communicated monk, and civil rulers honored the man whom the emperor had
denounced. He was urged to preach, and notwithstanding the imperial
prohibition, he again entered the pulpit. "I never pledged myself to chain
up the word of God," he said, "nor will I."(238)

He had not been long absent from Worms, when the papists prevailed upon
the emperor to issue an edict against him. In this decree Luther was
denounced as "Satan himself under the form of a man and dressed in a
monk's frock."(239) It was commanded that as soon as his safe-conduct
should expire, measures be taken to stop his work. All persons were
forbidden to harbor him, to give him food or drink, or by word or act, in
public or private, to aid or abet him. He was to be seized wherever he
might be, and delivered to the authorities. His adherents also were to be
imprisoned, and their property confiscated. His writings were to be
destroyed, and finally, all who should dare to act contrary to this decree
were included in its condemnation. The elector of Saxony, and the princes
most friendly to Luther, had left Worms soon after his departure, and the
emperor's decree received the sanction of the Diet. Now the Romanists were
jubilant. They considered the fate of the Reformation sealed.

God had provided a way of escape for His servant in this hour of peril. A
vigilant eye had followed Luther's movements, and a true and noble heart
had resolved upon his rescue. It was plain that Rome would be satisfied
with nothing short of his death; only by concealment could he be preserved
from the jaws of the lion. God gave wisdom to Frederick of Saxony to
devise a plan for the Reformer's preservation. With the co-operation of
true friends, the elector's purpose was carried out, and Luther was
effectually hidden from friends and foes. Upon his homeward journey, he
was seized, separated from his attendants, and hurriedly conveyed through
the forest to the castle of Wartburg, an isolated mountain fortress. Both
his seizure and his concealment were so involved in mystery that even
Frederick himself for a long time knew not whither he had been conducted.
This ignorance was not without design; so long as the elector knew nothing
of Luther's whereabouts, he could reveal nothing. He satisfied himself
that the Reformer was safe, and with this knowledge he was content.

Spring, summer, and autumn passed, and winter came, and Luther still
remained a prisoner. Aleander and his partisans ex