if Esau gives you fair words. Give no heed to the wailings of the ungodly; they will beg, weep, and entreat you for pity, like children. Show them no mercy, as God commanded Moses (Deut. vii.) and has declared the same to us…. To work! while the fire is hot; let not the blood cool upon your swords…. To work! while it is day. God is with you; follow Him!’ Of Luther he spoke in terms of peculiar hatred and contempt. In a letter which he addressed to ‘Brother Albert of Mansfeld,’ with the object of converting the Count, he alluded to him in expressions of the coarsest possible abuse.
In Thuringia, in the Harz, and elsewhere, numbers of convents, and even castles, were reduced to ashes. The princes were everywhere unprepared with the necessary troops, while the insurgents in Thuringia and Saxony counted more than 30,000 men. The former, therefore, endeavoured to strengthen themselves by coalition. Duke John, at Weimar, prepared himself for the worst: his brother, the Elector Frederick, was lying seriously ill at his Castle at Lochau (now Annaburg) in the district of Torgau.
At this crisis Luther, having left Eisleben, appeared in person among the excited population. He preached at Stolberg, Nordhausen, and Wallhausen. In his subsequent writings he could bear witness of himself, how he had been himself among the peasants, and how, more than once, he had imperilled life and limb. On May 3 we find him at Weimar; and a few days afterwards in the county of Mansfeld. Here he wrote to his friend, the councillor Ruhel of Mansfeld, advising him not to persuade Count Albert to be ‘lenient in this affair’–that is, against the insurgents; for the civil power must assert its rights and duties, however God might rule the issue. ‘Be firm,’ he entreats Ruhel, ‘that his Grace may go boldly on his way. Leave the matter to God, and fulfil His commands to wield the sword as long as strength endures. Our consciences are clear, even if we are doomed to be defeated…. It is but a short time, and the righteous Judge will come.’
Luther now hastened back to his Elector, having received a summons from him at Lochau. But before he could arrive there, Frederick had peacefully breathed his last, on May 5. Faithfully and discreetly, and in the honest conviction that truth would prevail, he had accorded Luther his favour and protection, whilst purposely abstaining to employ his power as ruler for infringing or invading the old-established ordinances of the Church. He allowed full liberty of action to the bishops, and carefully avoided any personal intercourse with Luther. But in the face of death, he confessed the truth of the gospel, as preached by Luther, by partaking of the communion in both kinds, and refusing the sacrament of extreme unction.
When his corpse was brought in state to Wittenberg, and buried in the Convent Church, Luther, who had to preach twice on the occasion, spoke of the universal grief and lamentation that ‘our head is fallen, a peaceful man and ruler, a calm head.’ And he pointed out as the ‘most grievous sorrow of all,’ how this loss had happened just in those difficult and wondrous times when, unless God interposed His arm, destruction threatened the whole of Germany. He exhorted his hearers to confess to God their own ingratitude for His mercy in having given them such a noble vessel of His grace. But of those who set themselves against authorities, he declared, in the words of the Apostle (Rom. xiii. 2), that ‘they shall receive to themselves damnation.’ ‘This text,’ he said, ‘will do more than all the guns and spears.’
Quite in the same spirit that dictated his letter sent to Ruhel only a few days before at Mansfeld, Luther now sent forth a public summons ‘Against the murderous and plundering bands of peasants.’ He began it with the words already quoted, ‘Before I could look about me, forth they rush … and rage like mad dogs.’
Thus he wrote when he saw the danger was at its highest. He even suggested the possibility ‘that the peasants might get the upper hand (which God forbid!);’ and that ‘God perhaps willed that, in preparation for the Last Day, the devil should be allowed to destroy all order and authority, and the world turned into a howling wilderness.’ But he called upon the Christian authorities, with all the more urgency and vehemence, to use the sword against the devilish villains, as God had given them command. They should leave the issue to God, acknowledge to Him that they had well deserved His judgments, and thus with a good conscience and confidence ‘fight as long as they could move a muscle.’ Whosoever should fall on their side would be a true martyr in God’s eyes, if he had fought with such a conscience. Then, thinking of the many better people who had been forced by the bloodthirsty peasants and murderous prophets to join the devilish confederacy, he broke out by exclaiming, ‘Dear lords, help them, save them, take pity upon these poor men; but as to the rest, stab, crush, strangle whom you can.’
These words of Luther were speedily fulfilled by the events. The Saxon princes, the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, the Duke of Brunswick, and the Counts of Mansfeld combined together before the mass of the peasants in Thuringia and Saxony had collected into a large army. On May 15 the forces of Munzer, numbering about 8,000 men, were defeated in the battle of Frankenhausen. Munzer himself was taken prisoner, and, crushed in mind and spirit, was executed like a criminal. A few days before, the main army of the Swabian peasants had been routed, and during the following weeks, one stronghold of the rebellion after another was reduced, and the horrors perpetrated by the peasants were repaid with fearful vengeance on their heads. The Landgrave Philip, and John, the new Elector of Saxony, distinguished themselves by their clemency in dismissing unpunished to their homes, after the victory, a number of the insurgent peasants.
But Luther’s violent denunciations now gave offence even to some of his friends. His Catholic opponents, and those even who saw no harm in burning heretics wholesale for no other reason than their faith, reproached him then, and do so even now, with horrible cruelty for this language. Luther replied to the ‘complaints and questions about his pamphlet,’ with a public ‘Epistle on the harsh pamphlet against the peasants.’ His excitement and irritation was increased by what he heard talked about his conduct. He maintained what he had said. But he also reminded his readers, that he had never, as his calumniators accused him, spoken of acting against the conquered and humbled, but solely of smiting those actually engaged in rebellion. He declared further, at the close of his new and forcible remarks on the use of the sword, that Christian authorities, at any rate were bound, if victorious, to ‘show mercy not only to the innocent, but also to the guilty.’ As for the ‘furious raging and senseless tyrants, who even after the battle cannot satiate themselves with blood, and throughout their life never trouble themselves about Christ’–with these he will have nothing whatever to do. Similarly, in a small tract on Munzer, containing characteristic extracts from the writings of this ‘bloodthirsty prophet,’ as a warning to the people, Luther entreated the lords and civil authorities ‘to be merciful to the prisoners and those who surrendered, … so that the tables should not be turned upon the victors.’ If we have now to lament, as we must, that after the rebellion was put down, nothing was done to remedy the real evils that caused it; nay, that those very evils were rather increased as a punishment for the vanquished, this reproach at least applies just as much to the Catholic lords, both spiritual and temporal, as to the Evangelical authorities or Luther.
In addition also to his alleged harshness and severity to the insurgents, Luther was accused, both then and since, by his ecclesiastical opponents, of having given rise to the rebellion by his preaching and writings. When the danger and anxiety were over, Emser had the effrontery to say of him in some popular doggrel, ‘Now that he has lit the fire, he washes his hands like Pilate, and turns his cloak to the wind;’ and again, ‘He himself cannot deny that he exhorted you to rebellion, and called all of you dear children of God, who gave up to it your lives and property, and washed your hands in blood. Thus did he write in public, and thereto has he striven.’
[Illustration: Fig. 28.–Munzer (his execution in the background.) From an old woodcut.]
In answer to this charge, Luther referred to his treatise ‘On the Secular Power,’ and to other of his writings. ‘I know well,’ he was able to say with truth, ‘that no teacher before me has written so strongly about secular authority; my very enemies ought to thank me for this. Who ever made a stronger stand against the peasants, with writing and preaching, than myself?’ Among the Estates of the Empire, not even the most violent enemies of evangelical doctrine could venture now to turn their victorious weapons against their associates in arms who espoused that doctrine, with whom they had achieved the common conquest, and from whose midst had sounded the most vigorous call to battle and to victory. Luther, on the contrary, was not afraid at this moment to exhort the Archbishop, Cardinal Albert, of whose friendly disposition to himself, his friend Ruhel had recently informed him, to follow the example of his cousin, the Grand Master in Prussia, by converting his bishopric into a temporal princedom, and entering the state of matrimony, and to name, as the chief motive for so doing, the ‘hateful and horrible rebellion,’ wherewith God’s wrath had visited the sins of the priesthood.
Thus did Luther, in these stormy times, whatever might be thought of the violence of his utterances, take up his position clearly and resolutely from the first, and maintain it to the end;–sure of his cause, and safe against the new attack which he saw now the devil was making; unyielding and defiant towards his old Papal enemies and their new calumniations. And in this frame of mind he took just now a step, calculated to sharpen all the tongues of slander, but one in which he saw the fulfilment of his calling. Freed from unchristian monastic vows, he entered into the holy state of matrimony ordained by God. We first hear him speaking decidedly on this subject in a letter to Ruhel of May 4. After referring to the devil as the instigator of the insurgent peasants, and of the murderous deeds which made him anxious to prepare himself for death, he continues with the following remarkable words: ‘And if I can, in spite of him, I will take my Kate in marriage before I die. I hope they will not take from me my courage and my joy.’
CHAPTER VI.
LUTHER’S MARRIAGE.
Our readers will recall to mind those words of Luther at the Wartburg, on hearing that his teaching was making the clergy marry and monks renounce the obligation of their vows. No wife, he declared, should be forced upon him. He remained in his convent; looked on quietly, as one friend and fellow-labourer after the other took advantage of their liberty; wished them happiness in the enjoyment of it, and advised others to do the same; but never changed his views about himself.
His enemies reproached him with living a worldly life, with drinking beer in company with his friends, with playing the lute, and so on. Nor was it merely his Catholic opponents who sought in such charges material for vile slander, but also jealous ranters like Munzer gave vent to their hatred in this manner. All the more remarkable it is that no slanderous reports of immoral conduct were ever launched at this time, even by his bitterest enemies, against the man who was denouncing so openly and sternly offences of that description among the superior, no less than the inferior, clergy. Calumnies of this kind were reserved for the occasion of his marriage.
In truth, his life was one of the most arduous labour, anxiety, and excitement; and as regards his bodily needs, he was satisfied with the plainest and most sparing diet and the simplest enjoyments. The Augustinian convent, whence he received his support, being gradually denuded of its inmates by their abandonment of monastic life, its revenues accordingly were stopped. Luther informed Spalatin in 1524 of the poverty to which they were reduced; not indeed, as Spalatin well knew, that he concerned himself much about it, or wished to make it a subject of complaint; if he had no meat or wine, he could live well enough on bread and water. Melancthon describes how once, before his marriage, Luther’s bed had not been made for a whole year, and was mildewed with perspiration. ‘I was tired out,’ says Luther, ‘and worked myself nearly to death, so that I fell into the bed and knew nothing about it.’
When, moreover, he exchanged, as we have seen, in the autumn of 1524, the monastic cowl for the garb of a professor; and when he and the prior Brisger were the only ones of all the former monks left in the convent, he remained quietly where he was, and never entertained the idea of marriage. A noble lady, Argula von Staufen, wife of the Ritter von Grumbach, formerly in the Bavarian army, who had written publicly for the cause of the gospel, and thereby incurred, with her husband, the displeasure of the Duke of Bavaria, and who was now in active correspondence with the Wittenbergers and Spalatin, expressed to the latter her surprise that Luther did not marry. Luther thereupon wrote to Spalatin on November 30, 1524, saying, ‘I am not surprised that folks gossip thus about me, as they gossip about many other things. But please thank the lady in my name, and tell her that I am in the hands of the Lord, as a creature whose heart He can change and re-change, destroy or revive, at any hour or moment; but as my heart has hitherto been, and is now, it will never come to pass that I shall take a wife. Not that I am insensible to my I flesh or sex, … but because my mind is averse to wedlock, because I daily expect the death and the well-merited punishment of a heretic.’
Shortly afterwards Luther wrote to his friend Link: ‘Suddenly, and while I was occupied with far other thoughts, the Lord has plunged me into marriage.’ It was in the spring of 1525 that he had formed this resolve, which speedily ripened to its fulfilment.
In a letter of March 12, 1525, he complained to his friend Amsdorf, who had gone to Magdeburg, of depression of spirits and temptation, and besought him to pay him a friendly visit to cheer him. It was, as we see from the contents of the letter, a temptation, which caused Luther to feel that, in the words of Scripture, it was ‘not good for man to be alone,’ but that he ought to have a help-meet to be with him. As to the choice of such a help-meet he may have already talked with Amsdorf, and very possibly they may have spoken of a lady of Magdeburg of the family of Alemann, who were conspicuous there for their devotion to the evangelical cause.
But Luther’s own choice turned on Catharine von Bora, a former nun. Sprung from an ancient, though poor family of noble blood, she had been brought up from childhood in the convent of Nimtzch near Grimma. We find her there as early as 1509; she was born on January 29, 1499, and was consecrated as a nun at the age of sixteen. When the evangelical doctrine became known at Nimtzch, Catharine endeavoured with other nuns to break the bonds, which she had taken upon herself without any real free-will or knowledge of her own. In vain she entreated her relatives to release her. At length one Leonhard Koppe, a burgher and councillor of Torgau, took her part. Assisted by him and two of his friends, nine nuns escaped secretly from the convent on Easter Eve, April 5, 1523. Luther justified their escape in a public letter addressed to Koppe, and collected funds for their support, until they could be further provided for. They fled first to Wittenberg, and here Catharine stayed at the house of the town clerk and future burgomaster, Philip Reichenbach.
She was now in her twenty-sixth year, when Luther turned his thoughts towards her. He told afterwards his friends and Catharine herself, with perfect frankness, that he had not been in love with her before, for he had his suspicions, and they were not unfounded, that she was proud. He had even thought, shortly before, of arranging a marriage between her and a minister named Glatz, who later on, however, proved himself unworthy of his office. Catharine, on the other hand, is said to have gone to Amsdorf, as the trusted friend of Luther, and to have told him frankly that she did not wish to marry Glatz, but was ready to form an honourable alliance with himself or with Luther. If Cranach’s portrait of her is to be trusted, she was not remarkable for beauty or any outward attraction. But she was a healthy, strong, frank and true German woman. Luther might reasonably expect to have in her a loyal, fresh-hearted, and staunch help-meet for his life, whose own cares or requirements would cause him little anxiety, while she would be just such a companion as, with his physical ailments and mental troubles, he required. In the event of her haughty disposition asserting itself unduly, he was the very man to correct it with quiet firmness and affection.
What further considerations induced him to marry, appear from his letters, in which he urged his friends to do likewise. Thus he wrote on March 27 to Wolfgang Reissenbusch, preceptor of the convent at Lichtenberg, saying that man was created by God for marriage. God had so made man that he could not well do without it; whoever was ashamed of marrying, must also be ashamed of his manhood, or must pretend to be wiser than God. The devil had slandered the married state by letting people who lived in immorality be held in high honour. Luther, in thus frankly stating the natural disposition of man to married life, spoke from his own experience. ‘To remain righteous unmarried,’ he said once later on, ‘is not the least of trials, as those know well who have made the attempt.’ In referring as he did to the devil, he probably had in his mind the scandal which threatened him if he should decide on marrying. He then goes on to say to Reissenbusch that if he honoured the Word and work of God, the scandal would be only a matter of a moment, to be followed by years of honour. To Spalatin he writes on April 10: ‘I find so many reasons for urging others to marry, that I shall soon be brought to it myself, notwithstanding that enemies never cease to condemn the married state, and our little wiseacres ridicule it every day.’ The ‘wiseacres’ he was thinking of were professors and theologians of his circle at Wittenberg. Not only was he resolved, however, to obey the will of his Creator, despite all condemnation and ridicule, but he deemed it his duty to testify to the rightness of the step by his example as well as by his words. His enemies, in fact, were taunting him that he did not venture to practise himself what he preached to others. A few days after, immediately before his departure for Eisleben, he wrote again to Spalatin, recommending his friend, who had been so utterly averse to matrimony, to take care that he was not anticipated in the step.
Amidst all the terrors of the Peasants’ War, which had now broken out in all its violence, and in earnest contemplation of a near end possibly threatening himself, he had formed the fixed resolve, as his letter of May 4 to Ruhel shows, to ‘take his Kate to wife, in spite of the devil.’ This is the first letter in which he mentions her name to a friend. And to this resolve he steadily adhered during the troublous weeks that followed, when he was called on to pay the last honours to his Elector, to rouse men to the sanguinary contest with the peasants, and to hear contumely and reproach heaped upon his stirring words. Besides writing to the Cardinal Albert himself, recommending him to marry, he sent a letter also on June 3 to his friend Ruhel, who held office as one of his advisers, saying, ‘If my marrying might serve in any way to strengthen his Grace to do the same, I should be very willing to set his Grace the example; for I have a mind, before leaving this world, to enter the married state, to which I believe God has called me.’ He had thoughts of this kind, he added, even if it should end only in a betrothal, and not an actual marriage.
He speedily gave effect to his final resolve, in order to cut short all the loose and idle gossip which threatened him as soon as his intentions were known with regard to Catharine von Bora. He took none of his friends into his confidence, but acted, as he afterwards advised others to act. ‘It is not good,’ he said, ‘to talk much about such matters. A man must ask God for counsel, and pray, and then act accordingly.’
As to how he finally came to terms with Catharine we have no account to show. But on the evening of June 13, on the Tuesday after the feast of the Trinity, he invited to his house his friends Bugenhagen, the parish priest of the town, Jonas, the professor and provost of the church of All Saints, Lucas Cranach with his wife, and the juristic professor Apel, formerly a dean of the Cathedral at Bamberg, who himself had married a nun, and in their presence was married to Catharine. The marriage was solemnised in the customary way. The pair were asked, by the priest present, Bugenhagen, according to the custom prevailing in Germany, and which Luther afterwards followed in his tract on Marriage, whether they would take one another for husband and wife; their right hands were then joined together, and thus, in the name of the Trinity, they were ‘joined together in matrimony.’ The ceremony was therewith concluded, and Catharine remained thenceforth with Luther as his wife. Some days after Luther gave a little breakfast to his friends; and the magistracy, of whom Cranach was a member, sent him their congratulations, together with a present of wine. A fortnight later, on June 27, Luther celebrated his wedding in grander style, by a nuptial feast, in order to gather his distant friends around him. He wrote to them saying that they were to ‘seal and ratify’ his marriage, and ‘help to pronounce the benediction.’ Above all he rejoiced to be able to see his ‘dear father and mother’ at the feast. Among the motives for his marrying he especially mentioned that he had felt himself bound to fulfil an old duty, in accordance with his father’s wishes.
Great as was the surprise which Luther occasioned by his speedy marriage, it was no greater than the talk and sensation that immediately ensued.
Among even his adherents and friends–especially the ‘wiseacres’ of whom he had spoken–there was much astonishment and shaking of heads. It was considered that the great man had lowered himself, and gossip was busy in asking what reasons could have induced him to take the step. Melancthon, his devoted friend, lost for the moment, as is shown by his letter of June 16 to the philologist Camerarius, his accustomed self-possession. He admitted that married life was a holy state, and one well-pleasing to God, and that its results might be beneficial to Luther’s nature and character; but he was of opinion that Luther’s lowering himself to this condition was a lamentable act of weakness, and injurious to his reputation–and that, too, at a time when Germany was more than ever in need of all his spirit and his energy. Luther had not invited him to be present on the 13th, from a suspicion that Melancthon would scarcely approve of what he was doing. A few days afterwards, however, he warmly besought Link, their common friend, to be sure and attend their nuptial feast on the 27th. That Luther, in this respect also, had acted as a man of strong character and determination, would soon be evident to them all.
His enemies seized the occasion of his marriage to spread vulgar falsehoods about him, which soon were further exaggerated, and have been raked up shamelessly again, even in our own time, or at least repeated in veiled and scandalous inuendoes.
[Illustration: Fig. 29.–LUTHER. (From a Portrait by Cranach in 1525.) At Wittenberg.]
As for Luther himself, he at first felt strange in the new mode of life which he had entered at the age of forty-one, so suddenly, and in the midst of his arduous labours, and the stirring public events and struggles of the time. At the same time he could not but be aware of the unfavourable reception which his step would encounter, even with his friends at Wittenberg. Melancthon found him, during the early days of his married life, in a restless and uncertain mood. But he remained firm in his conviction that God had called him to the married state. The same day that Melancthon wrote so anxiously to Camerarius about his marriage, Luther himself wrote to Spalatin, saying, ‘I have made myself so vile and contemptible forsooth, that all the angels, I hope, will laugh, and all the devils weep.’ In his letter of invitation to his friends for June 27, friendly humour is mingled with words of deep earnestness; nay, even with thoughts of death, and a longing for release from this infatuated world. Later on Luther preached, on the ground of his own experiences, about the blessings, the joys, and the purifying burdens of the state ordained and sanctified by God, and never without an expression of gratitude to God for having brought him to enter into it. Seventeen years after his marriage he bore testimony to Catharine in his will, that she had been to him a ‘pious, faithful, and devoted wife, always loving, worthy, and beautiful.’
[Illustration: Fig. 30.–CATHARINE VON BORA, LUTHER’S WIFE. (From a Portrait by Cranach about 1525.) At Berlin.]
Of the wedding feast of June 27 we have no further details. It was, so far as concerns the repast, a very simple one, as compared with the elaborate nuptial entertainments then in fashion. The university presented Luther with a beautifully chased goblet of silver, bearing round its base the words: ‘The honourable University of the Electoral town of Wittenberg presents this wedding gift to Doctor Martin Luther and his wife Kethe von Bora. [Footnote: The goblet is now in the possession of the University of Greifswald.]
[Illustration: Fig. 3l.–LUTHER’S RING FROM CATHARINE.]
Apartments in the convent, which Brisger also quitted shortly after to become a minister, were appointed by the Elector as the dwelling-place of Luther. Here, therefore, Catharine had to manage her household.
[Illustration: Fig. 82.–LUTHER’S DOUBLE RING.]
Protestant posterity has been anxious to retain a memorial of this marriage in the wedding rings of the newly-married couple. These, however, were probably not used at the marriage itself, since Luther wished to have it solemnised so quickly and without the knowledge of others. But a ring has been preserved, which Luther, to judge from the inscription (D. Martino Luthero Catharina v. Boren 13 Jun. 1525), received at any rate from his Kate as a supplementary reminiscence of the day. In recent times–about 1817–it has been multiplied by several copies. It bears the figure of the crucified Saviour and the instruments of His death; in perfect keeping with the spirit of the Reformer, whose marriage, like the other acts of his life, was concluded in the name of Christ crucified. There exists also, in the Ducal Museum at Brunswick, a double ring, consisting of two interfastened in the middle, of which one bears a diamond with his initials M. L. D., and the other a ruby with the initials of his wife, C. v. B. The inner surface of the first ring is engraved with the words: ‘WAS. GOT. ZUSAMEN. FIEGT,’ (Those whom God hath joined together), and the second, ‘SOL. KEIN. MENSCH. SCHEIDEN,’ (Shall no man put asunder). This double ring was probably given by some friend to Luther, or, as others suppose, to his wife.
PART V.
_LUTHER AND THE RECONSTRUCTION OF THE CHURCH, TO THE FIRST RELIGIOUS PEACE_. 1525-1532.
CHAPTER I.
SURVEY.
The year 1525 marks in the life of Luther and the history of the Reformation an epoch and a departure of general importance.
Luther’s preaching had originally forced its way among the German people and its various classes, with an energy and strength never counted on by its opponents. It seemed impossible to calculate how far the ferment would extend, and what would be its ultimate results. It was the idea of the Elector Frederick the Wise, now dead, that by simply letting the word of the gospel unfold itself quietly and work its way without hindrance, the truth could not fail eventually to penetrate all Christendom, or at least the Christian world of Germany, and thus accomplish a peaceful victory. This hope had guided him during his lifetime in his relations with Luther, and no one appreciated and responded to it more loyally than Luther himself. But now, as we have seen, those German princes who adhered to the old Church system had begun to form a close alliance, and were meditating means of remedying, albeit in their own fashion, certain evils in the Church. Erasmus, still the representative of a powerful modern movement of the intellect, had at length broken finally with Luther, and renewed his former allegiance to the Romish Church. From the German nobility, whose sympathy and co-operation Luther had once so boldly and hopefully invoked in his contest with the Papacy, it was vain, since the fatal enterprise of Sickingen, which Luther himself had been forced to condemn, to expect any material assistance in furtherance of the Evangelical cause. True, there was the extensive rising of another class, the peasantry, who likewise appealed to the gospel. But genuine disciples of the gospel could not fail to see in this movement, with terror, how a perverse conception of the sacred text led to errors and crimes which even Luther wished to see suppressed in blood. And the Catholic nobles took advantage of this rising to persecute with the greater rigour all evangelical preaching, and to extend, without further inquiry, their denunciation of the insurgents to those of evangelical sympathies who held entirely aloof from the insurrection. Luther, in his dealings with the nobles and peasants, failed to preserve that boldness and confidence of mind and language which he had previously displayed towards his fellow-countrymen. That his cause, indeed, was the cause of God, he remained unshakenly convinced; but in a sadder spirit than he had ever shown before, he left God’s will to determine what amount of visible success that cause should attain to in the present evil world, or how far the decision should depend upon His last great Judgment.
[Illustration: Fig. 33.–The Saxon Electors, FREDERICK THE WISE, JOHN, and JOHN FREDERICK. (From a Picture by Cranach.) At Nuremberg.]
[Illustration: Fig. 34.–Facsimile of FREDERICK’s signature.]
Even before the Peasants’ War broke out, the proceedings of the fanatics had begun to hamper and disturb his labours in the field of reformation, and had prepared for him much pain and tribulation. He had to grow distrustful of so many whom he had regarded as brothers, and of their manner of proclaiming the Word of God, Whom they pretended to serve. He already heard of men among them, who not only rejected infant baptism, and openly attacked his own, no less than the Catholic doctrine of the Sacrament, but who impugned the universal belief of Christendom in the Triune God and the Divinity of the Saviour. Early in 1525 news reached him of such a man at Nuremberg, John Denk, the Rector of the school there, who was expelled on that account by the magistrates. Luther’s own doctrine of the presence of Christ’s Body in the Lord’s Supper, which he had previously to defend against Carlstadt, his former colleague and fellow-combatant, now found a far more formidable opponent in the Zurich Reformer, Ulrich Zwingli. The latter, in a letter of November 16, 1524, to Alber, a preacher at Reutlingen, had already disputed the Real Presence, by interpreting the words ‘This _is_ my body’ to mean ‘This _signifies_ my body.’ In March 1525 he made known this interpretation to the world by publishing his letter, together with a pamphlet ‘On the True and False Religion.’ He was joined at Basle by Oecolampadius, whom Luther had welcomed formerly as a fellow-labourer, and who published his own interpretation of the words of Christ. Butzer and Capito, the evangelical preachers at Strasburg, inclined to the same view, which threatened to spread rapidly over the South of Germany. The opposition now encountered by Luther was far more dangerous for his teaching than the theories and agitations of a Carlstadt, since whatever judgment may be formed about its merits, it proceeded at any rate from men of far more thoughtful minds, more solid theological acquirements, and more honest reverence for the Word of God. Herewith then began that division of opinion among the ranks of the Evangelical Reformers, which served more than anything else to retard the fresh and vigorous progress of the Reformation, and infected even Luther’s spirit with the bitterness of the controversy it entailed.
At the same time, however, Luther had now won firm ground for the Evangelical cause upon a fixed and extensive territory. Within these limits it was possible to construct a new Church system, upon stable foundations and with a new constitution. John, the new Elector of Saxony, did not enjoy, it is true, the same high consideration throughout the Empire as his brother Frederick, Luther’s great protector, and he was also his inferior as a statesman. But with Luther himself both he and his son John Frederick had already maintained a friendly personal intercourse, such as his predecessor had carefully avoided. Nor did his disposition lead him, like Frederick, to pay any such regard to the possible preservation of Church unity in the German Empire and Western Christendom; on the contrary, he soon showed his readiness to undertake independently, as sovereign of his country, the establishment of a new Evangelical Church. Prussia had just preceded him in a reform embracing the whole country, under the former Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights, their present Duke. The Elector now found a further ally for the work in the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, the most active and politically the most important of all. As a young man of only twenty years of age, in the beginning of 1525, he had rendered valuable service by his energy, resolution, and warlike ability, in the defeat of Sickingen, and again when opposed to the seditious peasants. Already before the Peasants’ War commenced, he had acquired, mainly through Melancthon, whom he had met when travelling, a knowledge and love of the evangelical doctrines. His father-in-law, Duke George of Saxony, had vainly endeavoured, after their common victory over the insurgents, to alienate him from the cause of the hateful Luther, who he said was the author of so much mischief. But the menaces hurled against that cause by the Catholic States of the Empire served only to attach him more closely and loyally to John and John Frederick, and thence resulted in the following spring the League of Torgau, which was joined also by the princes of Brunswick-Luneburg, Anhalt, and Mecklenburg, and the town of Magdeburg. The co-operation of the territorial princes made it possible to procure for the Reformation and its Church system a firm position in the German Empire against the Emperor and the hostile Catholic States. And, at the same time, it offered means for establishing on the ground newly occupied by the Reformation itself, firm and generally recognised regulations of Church polity, and defending them from being disturbed by the proceedings of fanatics.
[Illustration: Fig. 35.–PHILIP OF HESSE. (From a woodcut of Brosamer.)]
Under these new conditions and circumstances, Luther’s work became limited, as was natural, to a narrower field, and bore no longer the same character of boldness and independence which had marked it in his original contest with Rome. But it required, on this account, all the more perseverance and patience, faithfulness and circumspection in minor matters, and an adequate regard to what was actually required and practicable, while clinging firmly to the lofty aims and objects with which the work of the Reformation had commenced.
To the portrait of Luther as the Reformer we have to add henceforth that of the married man and head of the household, whose single desire is to fulfil, as a man and a Christian, the duties belonging to this state of life, and to enjoy with a quiet conscience the blessings of God. In his letters to intimate friends we find happy home news alternating with the most profound and serious reflections on the conduct and duties of the Evangelical Church, and on abstruse questions of theology. His language as a Reformer deals now no longer, as in his Address to the German Nobility, in particular, with the problems and interests of political and social life; it is mainly to religious and spiritual matters, and to the kindred questions affecting the active work and constitution of the Church, that his mission is now directed. But his personal relations with his countrymen became all the more close and intimate in consequence of this change of life; and that which by many of his friends was regretted as a lowering of his reputation and influence, becomes a valuable and essential feature in the historical portrait now presented to our eyes.
In single dramatic incidents and changes, so to speak, Luther’s life henceforth, as was only natural, is no longer so rich as during the earlier years of development and struggle. We shall no longer meet with crises of such a kind as mark a momentous epoch.
CHAPTER II.
CONTINUED LABOURS AND PERSONAL LIFE TO 1529.
Among the particular labours which occupied Luther during the further course of the year 1525, apart from his persevering industry as a professor and preacher, we have already had occasion to mention one, namely, his reply to Erasmus. We find him towards the end of September entirely engrossed in this work. Not a single proposition in Erasmus’ book, so he wrote to Spalatin, would he admit.
The reckless severity with which he assailed that distinguished opponent appears all the more remarkable when contrasted with the conciliatory tone whereby he was then hoping to appease the wrath of his two bitterest enemies in high places, King Henry VIII. of England and Duke George of Saxony.
On September 1, 1525, he addressed a humble letter to Henry. King Christian II. of Denmark, who, after forfeiting his throne by his arbitrary and despotic rule, had taken refuge with the Elector Frederick, showed an inclination to favour the new doctrine, and even came in person to Wittenberg. By him Luther was induced to believe–for what reason it does not appear–that Henry VIII. had entirely changed his Church principles; and to hope that, if only he could make amends for the personal offence he had given him, Henry might be won over still further for the Evangelical cause. Luther refers to this hope as follows: ‘My Most Gracious Sire the King gave me good cause to hope for the King of England … and ceased not to urge me by speech and letter, giving me so many good words, and telling me that I ought to write humbly, and that it would be useful to do so, and so forth, until I am fairly intoxicated with the idea.’ He then cast himself in his letter at the feet of his Majesty, and besought him to pardon him for the offence he had given by his earlier pamphlet, ‘because from good witnesses he had learned that the Royal treatise which he had attacked, was not indeed the work of the King himself, but a concoction of the miserable Cardinal of York’ (Edward Lee). He promised to make a public retractation, in another pamphlet, for the sake of the King’s honour. At the same time, he wished that the grace of God might assist his Majesty, and enable him to turn wholly to the gospel, and shut his ears against the siren voices of its enemies.
With regard to Duke George of Saxony, all that Luther had as yet heard about him was that he was incessantly bringing fresh complaints about him to the Elector, that he rigorously excluded the new teaching from his own territory, and, what was more, that, he was anxious to go on from the conquest of the peasants to the suppression of Lutheranism, which had been the cause, he declared, of all the mischief. Now, however, Luther learned from certain Saxon nobles, that the Duke himself was not so unfavourably disposed to the cause, and was willing to treat with mildness and toleration those who preached or confessed the gospel; that it was with Luther personally that he was so offended and irritated. Luther wrote to him on December 22 of this year. ‘I have been advised,’ he says, ‘once more to entreat your Grace in this letter, with all humility and friendship, for it almost seems to me as if God, our Lord, would soon take some of us from hence, and the fear is that Duke George and Luther may also have to go.’ He then entreats, with all submission, his pardon for whatever wrong he had done the Duke by writing or in speech; but of his doctrine he could, for conscience’ sake, retract nothing. Luther, however, did not humble himself to George as he had done to King Henry, and his letter bears his characteristic sharpness of tone. He assured the Duke, however, that, with all his former severity of language towards him, he was a better friend to him than all his sycophants and parasites, and that the Duke had no need to pray to God against him.
Luther undoubtedly wrote the two letters, as he himself says of the one to Henry, with a simple and honest heart. They show, indeed, how much genuine good-nature, and at the same time how strange an ignorance of the world and of men, was combined in him together with a passionate zeal for combat. George answered him at once with ferocity, and, as Luther says, with the coarseness of a peasant. The prince, otherwise not ignoble, was so embittered by hatred against the heretic as to reproach him with the vulgarest motives of avarice, ambition, and the lust of the flesh. Never had Luther, even with his worst enemies, stooped to such personal slander. Concerning the answer which came afterwards from King Henry, as well as the reply of Erasmus, we shall speak further on.
Meanwhile, Luther and his friends were directing their attention to the newly published doctrine of the Last Supper. At first Luther left others to contest it: Bugenhagen addressed a public letter against it to his friend Hess at Breslau; Brenz at Schwabish Hall, together with other Swabian preachers, published tracts against Oecolampadius. Luther himself, after February 1525, referred repeatedly to Zwingli’s theory in sermons to the congregation at Wittenberg which were printed at the time. But beyond this he confined himself to sending warnings by letter, on November 5, 1525, and January 4, 1526, to Strasburg and Reutlingen, whence he had been appealed to on the subject, against the false doctrines which had been put forward concerning the Sacrament, and particularly against the fanatics. We shall follow later on the further course of the controversy.
All these polemics, however, were only an adjunct to his positive labours and activity. His chief task now was to carry out the work he had begun in his own Church. For this he could rely with certainty on the inward sympathy of the new Elector, and he hastened to turn it actively to account as soon as possible, for the furtherance of his Church objects. During his communications with the late Elector Frederick, Spalatin had always acted as intermediary; but to John he addressed himself direct, and, whenever occasion offered, by word of mouth, and this at times with much urgency. Spalatin was now the pastor of a parish, as had been his wish some time before. He was the successor at Altenburg of Link, who had removed to Nuremberg, and he enjoyed the especial confidence of John.
In his official capacity Luther was, and always remained, before all things, a member of the university. He cherished at all times a lively appreciation of its importance to the cause of evangelical truth, the Church, and the common welfare of society. He began by pleading on its behalf to the new Elector, to remedy the defects and grievances which had crept in during the latter years of the old and ailing Elector Frederick. The requisite salary, in particular, was wanting for several of the professorships, and the customary lectures on many branches of study had been dropped. Luther, as he himself afterwards told the Elector in a tone of apology, had ‘worried him sorely to put the university in order,’ so much so that ‘his urgency wellnigh surprised the Elector, as though he had not much faith in his promises.’ In September the necessary reforms at Wittenberg were provided for by a commission specially appointed by the prince. The interest the latter took in theology made him double Melancthon’s salary, in order to attach him the more closely to the theological lectures, which originally were not part of his duty.
Luther next devoted all his energies towards the requirements of the new Church system.
At Wittenberg, and from thence in other places, regulations for the performance of public worship had already been established, with the object of giving full and free expression to evangelical truth. The congregation had the Word of God read aloud to them, and joined in the singing of German hymns. The portions of the Liturgy, however, which were sung partly by the priests and partly by the choir, were still conducted in Latin. Luther now introduced a complete service in German, changing here and there the old form. To assist him in the musical alterations required, the Elector sent him two musicians from Torgau. With one of these in particular, John Walter, Luther worked with diligence, and continued afterwards on terms of friendly intercourse. He himself composed a few pieces for the work.
Of these, as of the earlier regulations at Wittenberg, Luther published a formal account. It appeared at the beginning of the next year (1526), under the title of ‘The German Mass and Order of Divine Worship at Wittenberg.’ But he guarded himself in this publication, from the outset, against the new Service being construed into a law of necessary obligation, or made a means of disquieting the conscience. In this matter, as in others, he wished above all things that regard should be paid to the weak and simple brethren–to those who had still to be trained and built up into Christians. Nay, he had meant it for a people among whom, as he said, many were not Christians at all, but the majority stood and stared, for the mere sake of seeing something new, just as though a Christian Service were being performed among Turks and heathens. The first question with these was how to attract them publicly to a confession of belief and Christianity. He thought also, at this time, of another and, as he termed it, a true kind of Evangelical Service, for which, however, the people were not yet prepared. His idea in this was that all individuals who were Christians in earnest, and were willing to confess the gospel, should enrol themselves by name, and meet together for prayer, for reading the Word of God, for administering the Sacraments, and exercising works of Christian piety. For an assembly of this kind, and for their worship of God, he contemplated no elaborate form of Liturgy, but, on the contrary, simply a ‘short and proper’ means of ‘directing all in common to the Word and prayer and charity,’ and in addition thereto, a regular exercise of congregational discipline and a Christian care of the poor, after the example of the Apostles. But for the present, he said, he must resign this idea of a congregation simply from the want of proper persons to compose it. He would wait ‘until Christians were found sufficiently earnest about the Word to offer themselves for the purpose, and adhere to it;’ otherwise it might serve only to generate a ‘spirit of faction,’ if he attempted to carry it through by himself; for the Germans, he said, were a wild people, and very difficult to deal with, unless extreme necessity compelled them. The Elector, however, readily assented to this project, and purposed to propose it as a model for other churches in his dominions.
At this point, however, a wider field of action opened out, the details of which could not be comprehended at a single glance, and which seemed to require a higher care, and the guidance and support of higher powers and authorities. In many places, nothing as yet, or at all events nothing of a stable and well-ordered kind, had been done towards a reconstruction of the Church and the satisfaction of spiritual requirements in an evangelical sense. There was no collective Church, and no ecclesiastical office existing by whose influence and authority reforms might have been made, and a new organisation established. This was a grievous state of need where, perhaps, the existing clergy and the majority or the flower of their congregations were already unanimous and decided in their confession of evangelical doctrine. And in a number of congregations, indeed, among the great mass of the country people, there prevailed to a peculiar degree, that want of understanding, of ripe thought, and of inward sympathy, which Luther noticed even among many of his Wittenbergers. The bishops, in their visitations in Saxony under the Elector Frederick, had been unable to check any longer the progress of the new teaching, and did not venture on any further interference. And yet this teaching, as Luther knew better than anyone, had not yet succeeded, in spite of all its popularity, in penetrating the souls of men. To a large extent, the masses seemed to be still stolid and indifferent. Even among the clergy, many were so unstable, so obscure, and so incompetent, that they failed to make any progress with their congregations. There were even some among them who were ready, according to circumstances, to adopt either the old or the new Church usages. In some places the new practices were opposed as innovations, especially by various nobles, and by the priests, who were dependent on the nobles: if such opposition was to be broken, it could only be done by the authority and power of the local sovereign. Lastly, and apart from all this, the new Church system was threatened with imminent disturbance and dissolution from the insufficiency or misuse of the funds required for its support. The customary revenues were falling off; payments were no longer made for private masses; and many of the nobles, including even those who remained attached to the old system, began to secularise the property of the Church. ‘Unless measures are taken,’ said Luther, ‘to secure a suitable disposition and proper maintenance for ministers and preachers, there will shortly be neither parsonages nor schools worth speaking of, and Divine Worship and the Word of God will come utterly to an end.’
The first question was to establish the principles on which a new organisation of the Church should be based.
The earlier opinions expressed by Luther, especially in his Address to the German Nobility, might have led one to expect that the new Church system conformably to his ideas would have to be built up, to use a modern expression, from below, that is to say, on the basis of the universal priesthood of all baptized Christians, who should now therefore, after hearing and receiving the Word of the Gospel, have proceeded to organise and embody themselves into a new community. Luther had also, in that treatise, as we have seen, allotted certain duties to the civil authorities in regard even to ecclesiastical matters; and it was now from profound and painful conviction that he confessed that the great bulk of the people were as yet not genuine Christians, but needed public means of attraction to draw them to Christianity. Later on we met with his idea of a ‘German Mass,’ involving a voluntary union and assembly of genuine Christians, as explained by him three years before in a sermon. There were elements here at least, one might have thought, sufficient to constitute an independent system of congregations. Shortly afterwards, in October 1526, a Hessian synod, convoked by the Landgrave Philip at Homberg, actually adopted the draft of a constitution, which provided that those Christians who acknowledged the Word of God should voluntarily enrol themselves as members of a Christian Evangelical Brotherhood or congregation, who should elect in assembly their pastors and bishops, and that the latter, together with other deputies, should constitute a general synod for the national Church. But Luther, true to his conviction, previously expressed, that there were not the men fitted for such an institution, stated now his opinion to Philip, that he had not the boldness to carry out such a heap of regulations, and that people were not as fit for them as those who sat and made the regulations imagined. Moreover he could not tolerate the idea that the mass of those who remained outside this community, and who were looked upon, according to the Homberg scheme, as heathens, should be left to their fate, without preachers of the Word, and above all, without either baptism or the Christian education of their children. Added to this, he adhered strenuously to his belief, which we have noticed long before, that certain duties with reference to religion and the Church were incumbent on the civil authorities, the princes and magistrates, in common with all the rest of Christendom. It was their duty, he declared in those earlier writings of his, to prohibit, by force if necessary, the proceedings of those priests who were hostile to the gospel. He now applied the idea and definition of external, idolatrous practices to the Papal system of public worship and the sacrifice of the mass. To suppress these practices, he said, was the duty of those authorities who watched over the external relations of life: such was his demand against the Catholics at Altenburg. On the other hand, this province of external life and external regulations embraced also the material means required for the external maintenance of the Church. And it was only a step further for those authorities to forbid any public exposition of doctrines which they found to be at variance with the Word of God, and to appoint also preachers of that Word; nay, to undertake, in short, the establishment and preservation of the constitution of the Church, so far as the same was external, and necessary, and incapable of being established by any other power. The Elector John himself had already, on August 16, 1525, announced at his palace of Weimar to the assembled clergy of the district, ‘that the gospel should be preached, pure and simple, without any additions by man.’
Under such circumstances, and starting with such views, Luther now urged the Elector to take in hand a comprehensive regulation of the Church. As soon as he had discharged his duties at the university and completed his new Church Service in German, he turned his efforts to a general ‘Reform of parishes.’ This, as he said in a letter at the end of September, was now the stumbling-block before him. On October 31, 1525, the anniversary of his ninety-five theses, he represented to the Elector that, now that the reorganisation of the university and the regulation of public worship had been completed, there still remained two points which demanded the attention and care of his Highness, as the supreme temporal authority in his country. One of these was the miserable condition of the parishes in general; the other was the proposal that the Elector, as Luther had already advised him at Wittenberg, should institute an inspection also of the civil administration of his councillors and officials, about which there were everywhere complaints both in the towns and country districts. With regard to the first point, he went on to explain, on receiving a gracious reply from the Elector, that the people who wished to have an evangelical preacher should themselves be made to contribute the additional income required; and he proposed that the country should be divided into four or five districts, each of which should be visited by two commissioners appointed by the prince. He then proceeded to consider the external maintenance of the parochial clergy, and the means necessary for that purpose. He suggested further that ministers advanced in years, or unfit to preach, but otherwise of pious life and conduct, should be instructed to read aloud, in person or by deputy, the Gospel, together with the Postills or short homilies. With regard to those parishes where the appointment of an evangelical preacher was a matter of indifference or of actual repugnance, he expressed at present no opinion; but in his later proposals he assumed the establishment of evangelical preachers throughout the country. He expresses his conviction that the Elector will give his services to God in these reforms of the Church, as a faithful instrument in His hands, ‘because,’ as he says, ‘your Highness is entreated and demanded to do so by us, and by the pressing need itself, and, therefore, assuredly by God.’
Readily as the Elector John listened to Luther’s words and exhortations, he found it difficult, nevertheless, to initiate at once so vast an undertaking as was imposed upon him. Luther was well aware, as he himself told John, that matters of importance might easily be delayed at court, ‘through the overwhelming press of business;’ and that princely households had much to do, and it was necessary to importune them perseveringly. He knew his prince–that with the best will possible, he was not energetic enough with those about him; and among the latter he suspected that many were indifferent and selfish with regard to matters of religion and the Church. The task, however, that now lay before him, was even more difficult and involved than Luther himself had imagined when first shaping and propounding his idea.
A whole year went by before the project was taken up comprehensively. Only in the district of Borna, in January 1526, was an inspection of parishes effected by Spalatin and a civil official of the prince; and another one was held during Lent in the Thuringian district of Tenneberg, in which Luther’s friend Myconius of Gotha, afterwards one of the most prominent Reformers in Thuringia, took an active part. Meantime, however, the clergy in general received directions from the Elector to perform public worship in the manner prescribed by Luther’s ‘German Mass.’
In the course of the summer the development of the general affairs of the Empire enabled the desired co-operation of the civil authorities in the work of Reformation to be established on a basis of law. And yet, just now, the situation, as regards the Evangelical cause, had become more critical than at any previous time since the Diet of Worms. For the Emperor Charles had terminated, by a brilliant victory, the war with France, which had compelled him to let his Edict remain dormant; and the peace concluded with the captured King Francis, in January 1526, at Madrid, was designated by the two monarchs as being intended to enable them to take up their Christian arms in common for the expulsion of the infidels and the extirpation the Lutheran and other heresies. The Emperor issued an admonition to certain princes of Germany, bidding them take measures accordingly, and a number of them held a conference together on the subject. Against the danger thus threatening, the Evangelical party formed the League of Torgau. But no sooner was King Francis at liberty and back in France, than he broke the peace so solemnly contracted. Pope Clement, to whom this peace had offered such a splendid prospect of purifying and uniting Christendom, set more store by his political interests and temporal possessions in Italy, which formed a subject of such jealous rivalry and contention between himself, the Emperor, and the King. Terrified at the overwhelming power of the Emperor, the Holy Father made use of his Divine credentials to absolve the French king from his oath, and himself concluded a warlike alliance with him against Charles, which went by the name of the ‘Holy League.’ Myconius remarked of this compact that ‘whatever Popes do must be called most holy, for so holy are they that even God, the Gospel, and all the world, must lie at their feet.’ Meanwhile, the Turks from the East were advancing on Germany. Thus it came to pass that a Diet at Spires, which seemed originally to have been summoned for the final execution of the Edict of Worms, led to the Imperial Recess of August 27, 1526, wherein it was declared that until the General, or at least National Council of the Church, which was prayed for, should be convoked, each State should, in all matters appertaining to the Edict of Worms, ‘so live, rule, and bear itself as it thought it could answer it to God and the Emperor.’
Luther now turned again, on November 22, 1526, to John, ‘not having laid for a long while any supplication before his Electoral Highness.’ The peasants, he said, were so unruly, and so ungrateful for the Word of God, that he had almost a mind to let them go on living like pigs, without a preacher, only their poor young children, at any rate, must be cared for. He laid down in this letter some important principles concerning the duty of the civil power and the State. The prince, he declared, was the supreme guardian of the young, and of all who required his protection. All towns and villages that could afford the means, should be compelled to keep schools and preachers, just as they were compelled to pay taxes for bridges, roads, and other local requirements. In support of this demand, he appealed to the direct command of God, and to the universal state of destitution prevailing. If that duty were neglected, the country would be full of vagrant savages. With regard to the convents and other religious foundations, he stated that, as soon as the Papal yoke had been removed from the land, they would pass over to the prince as the supreme head; and it would then become his duty, however onerous, to regulate such matters, since no one else would have the power to do so. He particularly warned the Elector not to allow the nobles to appropriate the property of the convents, ‘as is talked of already, and as some of them are actually doing.’ They were founded, he said, for the service of God: whatever was superfluous might be applied by the Elector to the exigencies of the state or the relief of the poor. To his friends Luther complained with grief and bitterness of some courtiers of the Elector, who after having always shut their ears to religion and the gospel, were now chuckling over the rich spoils in prospect, and laughing at evangelical liberty.
The work now commenced in real earnest. The Elector had the necessary regulations prepared at Wittenberg, at a conference between his chancellor Bruck, Luther, and others. In February 1527 visitors were appointed, and among them was Melancthon. They began their labours at once in the district to which Wittenberg belonged, but of their proceedings here nothing further is known. In July the first visitation on a large scale took place in Thuringia.
Just at this time, however, Luther was overtaken by severe bodily suffering and also by troubles at home, while the visitation and the academical life at Wittenberg had to experience an interruption.
Luther’s first year of married life had been one of happiness. Symptoms of a physical disorder, the stone, had appeared, however, even then, and in after years became extremely painful and dangerous.
On June 7, 1526, as he announced to his friend Ruhel, his ‘dear Kate brought him, by the great mercy of God, a little Hans Luther,’–her firstborn. With joy and thankfulness, as he says in another letter, they now reaped the fruit and blessings of married life, whereof the Pope and his creatures were not worthy.
Amidst all his various labours in theology and for the Church, and in preparing for the visitation, he took his share in the cares of his household, laid out the garden attached to his quarters at the convent, had a well made, and ordered seeds from Nuremberg through his friend Link, and radishes from Erfurt. He wrote at the same time to Link for tools for turning, which he wished to practise with his servant Wolf or Wolfgang Sieberger, as the ‘Wittenberg barbarians’ were too much behind in the art; and he was anxious, in case the world should no longer care to maintain him as a minister of the Word, to learn how to gain a livelihood by his handiwork.
Early in January 1527 he was seized with a sudden rush of blood to the heart. It nearly proved fatal at the moment, but fortunately soon passed away. An attack of illness, accompanied by deep oppression and anxiety of mind, and the effects of which long remained, followed on July 6. On the morning of that day, being seized with anguish of the soul, he sent for his faithful friend and confessor Bugenhagen, listened to his words of comfort from the Bible, and with persevering prayer commended himself and his beloved ones to God. At Bugenhagen’s advice, he then went to a breakfast, to which the Elector’s hereditary marshal, Hans Loser, had invited him. He ate little at the meal, but was as cheerful as possible to his companions. After it was over, he sought to refresh himself with conversation with Jonas in his garden, and invited him and his wife to spend the evening at his home. On their arrival, however, he complained of a rushing and singing noise, like the waves of the sea, in his left ear, and which afterwards shot through his head with intolerable pain, like a tremendous gust of wind. He wished to go to bed, but fainted away by the door of his bedroom, after calling aloud for water. Cold water having been poured upon him, he revived. He began to pray aloud, and talked earnestly of spiritual things, although a short swoon came over him in the interval. The physician Augustin Schurf, who was called in, ordered his body, now quite cold, to be warmed. Bugenhagen too was sent for again. Luther thanked the Lord for having vouchsafed to him the knowledge of His holy Name; God’s will be done, whether He would let him die, which would be a gain to himself, or allow him to live on still longer in the flesh, and work. He called his friends to witness that up to his end he was certain of having taught the truth according to the command of God. He assured his wife, with words of comfort, that in spite of all the gossip of the blind world she was his wife, and he exhorted her to rest solely on God’s Word. He then asked, ‘Where is my darling little Hans?’ The child smiled at his father, who commended him with his mother to the God who is the Father of the fatherless and judges the cause of the widow. He pointed to some silver cups which had been given him, and which he wished to leave his wife. ‘You know,’ he added, ‘we have nothing else.’ After a profuse perspiration he grew better, and the next day he was able to get up to meals. He said afterwards that he thought he was dying, in the hands of his wife and his friends, but that the spiritual paroxysm which had preceded had been something far more difficult for him to bear.
Luther, after recovering from this attack, still complained of weakness in the head, and his inward oppression and spiritual anguish was renewed and became intensified. On August 2 he told Melancthon, who was then busy with his visitation in Thuringia, that he had been tossed about for more than a week in the agonies of death and hell, and that his limbs still trembled in consequence.
Whilst he was still in this state of suffering, news came that the plague was approaching Wittenberg, nay, had actually broken out in the town. It is well known how this fearful scourge had repeatedly raged in Germany, and how ruinous it had been, from the panic which preceded and accompanied it. The university, from fear of the epidemic, was now removed to Jena.
Luther resolved, however, together with Bugenhagen, whom he was assisting as preacher, to remain loyally with the congregation, who now more than ever required his spiritual aid; although his Elector wrote in person to him saying, ‘We should for many reasons, as well as for your own good, be loth to see you separated from the university…. Do us then the favour.’ He wrote to a friend, ‘We are not alone here; but Christ, and your prayers, and the prayers of all the saints, together with the holy angels, are with us.’
The plague had really broken out, though not with that violence which the universal panic would have led one to suppose. Luther soon counted eighteen corpses, which were buried near his house at the Elster Gate. The epidemic advanced from the Fishers’ suburb into the centre of the town: here the first victim carried off by it, died almost in Luther’s arms–the wife of the burgomaster Tilo Denes. To his friends elsewhere Luther sent comforting reports, and repressed all exaggerated accounts. His friend Hess at Breslau asked him ‘if it was befitting a Christian man to fly when death threatened him.’ Luther answered him in a public letter, setting forth the whole duty of Christians in this respect. Of the students, a few at any rate remained at Wittenberg. For these he now began a new course of lectures.
Luther’s spiritual sufferings continued to afflict him for several months, and until the close of the year. Though he had known them, he said, from his youth, he could never have expected that they would prove so severe. He found them very similar to those attacks and struggles which he had had to endure in early life. The invasion of the plague, and the parting from all his intimate friends except Bugenhagen, must have contributed to increase them.
He was just now deeply shocked and agitated by the news of the death of a faithful companion in the faith, the Bavarian minister Leonard Kaser or Kaiser, who was publicly burnt on August 16, 1527, in the town of Scherding. Luther broke out, as he had done after Henry of Zutphen’s martyrdom, into a lamentation of his own unworthiness compared with such heroes. He published an account of Leonard and his end, which had been sent him by Michael Stiefel, adding a preface and conclusion of his own. About the same time he composed a consolatory tract for the Evangelical congregation at Halle-on-the-Saale, whose minister Winkler had been murdered in the previous April.
In the autumn a new controversial treatise was published against him by Erasmus, which he rightly described as a product of snakes; and he now stood in the midst of the contest between Zwingli and Oecolampadius. He exclaimed once in a letter to Jonas, ‘O that Erasmus and the Sacramentarians (Zwingli and his friends) could only for a quarter of an hour know the misery of my heart. I am certain that they would then honestly be converted. Now my enemies live, and are mighty, and heap sorrow on sorrow upon me, whom God has already crushed to the earth.’
The pestilence soon reached his friends. The wife of the physician Schurf, who was then living in the same house with him, was attacked by it, and only recovered slowly towards the beginning of November. At the parsonage the wife of the chaplain or deacon George Rorer succumbed to it on November 2, whereupon Luther took Bugenhagen and his family from the panic-stricken house into his own dwelling. But soon after dangerous symptoms showed themselves with a friend, Margaret Mocha, who was then staying with Luther’s family, and she was actually ill unto death. His own wife was then near her confinement. Luther was the more concerned about her, as Rorer’s wife, when in the same condition, had sickened and died. But Frau Luther remained, as he says, firm in the faith, and retained her health. Finally, towards the end of October his little son Hans fell ill, and for twelve whole days would not eat. When the anniversary of the ninety-five theses came round again, Luther wrote to Amsdorf telling him of these troubles and anxieties, and concluded with the words: ‘So now there are struggles without and terror within…. It is a comfort which we must set against the malice of Satan, that we have the Word of God, whereby to save the souls of the faithful, even though the devil devour their bodies…. Pray for us, that we may endure bravely the hand of the Lord, and overcome the power and craft of the devil, whether it be through death or life. Amen. Wittenberg: All Saints’ Day, the tenth anniversary of the death-blow to indulgences, in thankful remembrance whereof we are now drinking a toast.’
[Illustration: Fig. 36.–LUTHER. (From a Portrait by Cranach in 1528, at Berlin.)]
A short time afterwards Luther was able to send Jonas somewhat better news about the sickness at home, though he was still sighing with deep inward oppression; ‘I suffer,’ he said, ‘the wrath of God, because I have sinned in His sight. Pope, Emperor, princes, bishops, and all the world hate me, and, as if that were not enough, my brethren too (he means the Sacramentarians) must needs afflict me. My sins, death, Satan with all his angels–all rage unceasingly; and what could comfort me if Christ were to forsake me, for Whose sake they hate me? But He will never forsake the poor sinner.’ Then follow the words above quoted about Erasmus and the Sacramentarians.
[Illustration: Fig. 37.–LUTHER’S WIFE. (From a Portrait by Cranach in 1528, at Berlin.)]
Towards the middle of December the plague gradually abated. Luther writes from home on the tenth of that month: ‘My little boy is well and happy again. Schurf’s wife has recovered, Margaret has escaped death in a marvellous manner. We have offered up five pigs, which have died, on behalf of the sick.’ And on his return home this day to dinner from his lecture, his wife was safely delivered of a little daughter, who received the name of Elizabeth.
To his own inward sufferings Luther rose superior by the strengthening power of the conviction that even in these his Lord and Saviour was with him, and that God had sent them for his own good and that of others; that is to say, for his own discipline and humbling. He applied to himself the words of St. Paul, ‘As dying, and behold we live;’ nay, he wished not to be freed of his burden, should his God and Saviour be glorified thereby.
Luther’s famous hymn, _Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott_, appeared for the first time, as has been recently proved, in a little hymn-book, about the beginning of the following year. We can see in it indeed a proof how anxious was that time for Luther. It corresponds with his words, already quoted, on the anniversary of the Reformation.
With the cessation of the pestilence and the return of his friends, the new year seems to have brought him also a salutary change in his physical condition; for his sufferings, which were caused by impeded circulation, became sensibly diminished.
Since the outbreak, and during the continuance of the plague, the work of Church visitation had been suspended. Melancthon, however, who had followed the university to Jena, was commissioned meanwhile to prepare provisionally some regulations and instructions for further action in this matter, and in August Luther received the articles which he had drafted for his examination and approval.
These articles or instructions comprised the fundamental principles of Evangelical doctrine, as they were henceforth to be accepted by the congregations. They were drawn up with especial regard to the ‘rough common man,’ who too often seemed deficient in the first rudiments of Christian faith and life, and with regard also to many of those confessing the new teaching, who, as Melancthon perceived, were not unfairly accused of allowing the word of saving faith to be made a ‘cloak of maliciousness,’ and who filled their sermons rather with attacks against the Pope than with words of edifying purport. Melancthon said on this point, ‘those who fancy they have conquered the Pope, have not really conquered the Pope.’ And whilst teaching that those who were troubled about their sins had only to have faith in their forgiveness for the merits of Christ, to be justified in the sight of God and to find comfort and peace, nevertheless, he would have the people earnestly and specially reminded that this faith could not exist without true repentance and the fear of God; that such comfort could only be felt where such fear was present, and that to achieve this end God’s law, with its demands and threats of punishment, would effectually operate upon the soul.
Luther himself had taught very explicitly, and in accordance with his own experience of life, that the faith which saves through God’s joyful message of grace could only arise in a heart already bowed and humbled by the law of God, and, having arisen, was bound to employ itself actively in fruits of repentance; although, in stating this doctrine, he had not perhaps so equally adjusted the conditions, as Melancthon had here done. An outcry, however, now arose from among the Romanists, that Melancthon no longer ventured to uphold the Lutheran doctrine; of course it suited their interests to fling a stone in this manner at Luther and his teaching. But what was far more important, an attack was raised against Melancthon from the circle of his immediate friends. Agricola of Eisleben, for instance, would not hear of a repentance growing out of such impressions produced by the Law and the fear of punishment. The conversion of the sinner, he declared, must proceed solely and entirely from the comforting knowledge of God’s love and grace, as revealed in His message to man: thence, further, and thence alone, came the proper fear of God, a fear, not of His punishment, but of Himself. This distinction he had failed to find in Melancthon’s Instructions. It was the first time that a dogmatic dispute threatened to break out among those who had hitherto stood really united on the common ground of Lutheran doctrine.
Luther, on the contrary, approved Melancthon’s draft, and found little to alter in it. What his opponents said did not disturb him; he quieted the doubts of the Elector on that score. Whoever undertook anything in God’s cause, he said, must leave the devil his tongue to babble and tell lies against it. He was particularly pleased that Melancthon had ‘set forth all in such a simple manner for the common people.’ Fine distinctions and niceties of doctrine were out of place in such a work. Even Agricola, who wished to be more Lutheran than Luther himself, was silenced.
Melancthon’s work, after having been subjected by the Elector to full scrutiny and criticism in several quarters, was published by his command in March 1528, with a preface written by Luther, as ‘Instructions of the Visitors to the parish priests in the Electorate of Saxony.’ In this preface Luther pointed out how important and necessary for the Church was such a supervision and visitation. He explained, as the reason why the Elector undertook this office and sent out visitors, that since the bishops and archbishops had proved faithless to their duty, no one else had been found whose special business it was, or who had any orders to attend to such matters. Accordingly, the local sovereign, as the temporal authority ordained by God, had been requested to render this service to the gospel, out of Christian charity, since, in his capacity as civil ruler, he was under no obligation to do so. In like manner, Luther afterwards described the Evangelical sovereigns as ‘Makeshift-bishops’ (_Nothbischofe_). At the same time the instructions for visitation introduced now in the smaller districts the office of superintendent as one of permanent supervision.
In the course of the summer preparations were made for a visitation on a large scale, embracing the whole country. The original intention had been to deal, by means of one commission, with the various districts in rotation. Such a course would have necessarily entailed, as was admitted, much delay and other inconveniences. A more comprehensive method was accordingly adopted, of letting different commissions work simultaneously in the different districts. Each of these commissions consisted of a theologian and a few laymen, jurists, and councillors of state, or other officials. Luther was appointed head of the commission for the Electoral district. The work was commenced earlier in some districts than in others. Luther’s commission was the first to begin, on October 22, and apparently in the diocese of Wittenberg.
Luther had already, since May 12, voluntarily undertaken a new and onerous labour. Bugenhagen had left Wittenberg that day for the town of Brunswick, where, at the desire of the local magistracy, he carried out the work of reform in the Church, until his departure in October for the same purpose to Hamburg, where he remained until the following June. Luther undertook his pastoral duties in his absence, and preached regularly three or four times in the week. Nevertheless, he took his share also in the work of visitation; the district assigned to him did not take him very far away from Wittenberg. He remained there, actively engaged in this work, during the following months, and with some few intervals, up to the spring. From the end of January 1529 he again suffered for some weeks from giddiness and a rushing noise in his head; he knew not whether it was exhaustion or the buffeting of Satan, and entreated his friends for their prayers on his behalf, that he might continue steadfast in the faith.
The shortcomings and requirements brought to light by the visitation corresponded to what Luther had expected. In his own district the state of things was comparatively favourable; happily, a third of the parishes had the Elector for their patron, and in the towns the magistrates had, to some extent at least, fulfilled their duties satisfactorily. The clergy, for the most part, were good enough for the slender demands with which, under existing circumstances, their parishioners had to be content. But things were worse in many other parts of the country. A gross example of the rude ignorance then prevailing, not only among the country people, but even among the clergy, was found in a village near Torgau, where the old priest was hardly able to repeat the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed, but was in high reputation far and near as an exorcist, and did a brisk business in that line. Priests had frequently to be ejected for gross immorality, drunkenness, irregular marriages, and such like offences; many of them had to be forbidden to keep beer-houses, and otherwise to practise worldly callings. On the other hand, we hear of scarcely any priests so addicted to the Romish system as to put difficulties in the way of the visitors. Poverty and destitution, so Luther reports, were found everywhere. The worst feature was the primitive ignorance of the common people, not only in the country but partly also in the towns. We are told of one place where the peasants did not know a single prayer; and of another, where they refused to learn the Lord’s Prayer, because it was too long. Village schools were universally rare. The visitors had to be satisfied if the children were taught the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments by the clerk. A knowledge of these at least was required for admission to the Communion.
Luther in the course of his visitations mixed freely with the people, in the practical, energetic, and hearty manner so peculiar to himself.
For the clergy, who needed a model for their preaching, and for the congregations to whom their pastors, owing to their own incompetence, had to preach the sermons of others, nothing more suitable for this purpose could be offered than Luther’s Church-Postills. Its use, where necessary, was recommended. It had shortly before been completed; that is to say, after Luther in 1525 had finished the portion for the winter half-year, his friend Roth, of Zwickau, brought out in 1527 a complete edition of sermons for the Sundays of the summer half-year, and all the feast-days and holidays, compiled from printed copies and manuscripts of detached sermons.
The most urgent task, however, that Luther now felt himself bound to perform, was the compilation of a Catechism suitable for the people, and, above all, for the young. Four years before, he had endeavoured to encourage friends to write one. His ‘German Mass’ of 1526 said: ‘The first thing wanted for German public worship is a rough, simple, good Catechism;’ and further on in that treatise he declared that he knew of no better way of imparting such Christian instruction, than by means of the Ten Commandments, the Creed, and the Lord’s Prayer, for they summed up, briefly and simply, almost all that was necessary for a Christian to know.
He now took in hand at once, early in 1529, and amidst all the business of the visitations, a larger work, which was intended to instruct the clergy how to understand and explain those three main articles of the faith, and also the doctrines of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. This work is his so-called ‘Greater Catechism,’ originally entitled simply the ‘German Catechism.’
Shortly afterwards followed the ‘Little Catechism,’–called also the ‘Enchiridion’–which contains in an abbreviated form, adapted to children and simple understandings, the contents of his larger work, set out here in the form of question and answer. ‘I have been induced and compelled,’ says Luther in his introduction, ‘to compress this Catechism, or Christian teaching, into this modest and simple form, by the wretched and lamentable state of spiritual destitution which I have recently in my visitations found to prevail among the people. God help me! how much misery have I seen! The common folk, especially the villagers, know absolutely nothing of Christian doctrine, and alas, many of the parish priests are almost too ignorant or incapable to teach them!’ He entreats therefore his brother clergymen to take pity on the people, to assist in bringing home the Catechism to them, and more particularly to the young; and to this end, if no better way commended itself, to take these forms before them, and explain them word by word.
For the use of the pastors, he added to this Catechism a short tract on Marriage, and in the second edition, which followed immediately after, he subjoined a reprint of his treatise on Baptism, which he had published three years before.
The Catechism met the requirements of simple minds and of a Christian’s ordinary daily life, by providing also forms of prayer for rising, going to bed, and eating, and lastly a manual for households, with Scriptural texts for all classes. This ends with the words–
Let each his lesson learn to spell,
And then his house will prosper well.
To the clergy, in particular, Luther addressed himself, that they might imbue the people in this manner with Christian truth. But he wished also, as he said, to instruct every head of a household how to ‘set forth that truth simply and clearly to his servants,’ and teach them to pray, and to thank God for His blessings.
The contents of the Catechism were carefully confined to the highest, simplest, and thoroughly practical truths of Christian teaching, without any trace or feature of polemics. In its composition, as for instance, in his exposition of the Lord’s Prayer, and in his small prayers above mentioned, he availed himself of old materials. How excellently this Catechism, with its originality and clearness, its depth and simplicity, responded to the wants not only of his own time, but of after generations, has been proved by its having remained in use for centuries, and amid so many different ranks of life and such various degrees of culture. Except his translation of the Bible, this little book of Luther is the most important and practically useful legacy which he has bequeathed to his people.
The visitations were over when the two Catechisms appeared, although they had not yet been held in all the parishes. Events of another kind and dangers threatening elsewhere now demanded the first attention of the Elector and the Reformers.
CHAPTER III.
ERASMUS AND HENRY VIII.–CONTROVERSY WITH ZWINGLI AND HIS FOLLOWERS, UP TO 1528.
Luther’s controversy with Erasmus, the most important of the champions of Catholic Churchdom, had terminated, it will be remembered, so far as Luther was concerned, with his treatise ‘On the Bondage of the Will.’ To the new tract which Erasmus published against him, in two parts, in 1526 and 1527, and which, though insignificant in substance, was violent and insulting enough in tone, Luther made no reply. Erasmus, nevertheless, to the pleasure of himself and his patrons in high places, continued his virulent attacks on the Reformation, which was bringing ruin, he declared, on the noble arts and letters, and carrying anarchy into the Church, while he himself, in his own mediating manner, and in the sense and with the help of the temporal rulers, was doing his best to promote certain reforms in the Church, within the pale of the ancient system, and on its proper hierarchical basis. On what principles, however, that basis was established, and the Divine rights of the hierarchy reposed, he wisely abstained, now as he had done before, from explaining. In Luther’s eyes he was merely a refined Epicurean, who had inward doubts about religion and Christianity, and treated both with disdain.
Luther’s letter to Henry VIII., which we have noticed in an earlier chapter, took a long time before it reached the King, and before the latter could send an answer to it. The writing of that answer must have given his royal adversary much satisfaction; it turned out a good deal coarser than even the one from Duke George; Luther’s marriage in particular afforded Henry an occasion for insulting language. Emser published it in German early in 1527, adding some vituperations and falsehoods of his own. Luther’s only object in replying was to dissipate any impression that he had ever declared to Henry his readiness to recant. His reply consisted of a few but powerfully written pages. He pointed out that in his letter he had expressly excepted his doctrines from any offer of retractation; upon these doctrines he took his stand, let kings and the devil do their worst. Beyond these he had nothing which so encouraged his heart, and gave him such strength and joy. To the personal insults and imputations of sensuality and so forth, which Henry VIII., this man of unbridled passions, had poured upon him, he replied that he was well aware that, in regard to his personal life, he was a poor sinner, and that he was glad his enemies were all saints and angels. He added, however, that though he knew himself to be a sinner before God and his dear Christian brethren, he wished at the same time to be virtuous before the world, and that virtuous he was–so much so that his enemies were not worthy to unloose the latchet of his shoes. With regard to his letter to Henry he acknowledged that in this, as in his letter to Duke George, and others, he had been tempted to make a foolish trial of humility. ‘I am a fool, and remain a fool, for putting faith so lightly in others.’
Luther reverts in this reply to enemies of a different sort, who make his heart still heavier. These are to him his ‘tender children,’ his ‘little brothers,’ his ‘golden little friends, the spirits of faction and the fanatics,’ who would not have known anything worth knowing either of Christ or of the gospel, if Luther had not previously written about it. He alluded, in particular, to the new ‘Sacramentarians,’ and to Zwingli their leader.
Although this is the first time that Zwingli makes his appearance in the history of Luther, and was never treated by him otherwise than as a new offshoot of fanaticism, it is important, in order to understand and appreciate him aright, to bear in mind the fact that, himself only a few months younger than Luther, he had been working since 1519 among the community at Zurich as an independent and progressive Evangelical Reformer, and had extended his active influence over Switzerland, however little noticed he had been at Wittenberg.
His career hitherto had been made easier for him than was the case with Luther. The Grand Council of the city of Zurich not only afforded him their protection, but in 1520 decreed full liberty to preach the Gospels and Epistles of the Apostles in the sense he ascribed to them, and in 1523 formally declared their acceptance of his doctrines, and abolished all idolatrous practices. No Recess of a Diet was here to disturb or threaten him. The Pope, for political reasons, behaved with unwonted caution and discretion: he delayed in this case for several years the ban of excommunication which he had pronounced so readily against Luther. Even Hadrian, the man of firm character, to whom Luther was an object of abhorrence, had only gracious and insinuating words for the Zurich Reformer. The Zurich authorities, at the same time, acting in concert with Zwingli, adopted severe measures against any intrusion of fanatics and Anabaptists, nor did the entire population of the small republic contain any great number of persons so thoroughly neglected, and so difficult of influence by preachers, as was the case with the country people in Germany. Well might Zwingli press forward with a lighter heart than Luther’s in his work.
[Illustration: Fig. 38.–ZWINGLI. (From an old engraving.)]
Personally, moreover, he had never passed through such severe inward struggles as Luther, nor had ever wrestled with such spiritual anguish and distress. The thought of reconciliation with God, and the comforting of conscience by the assurance of His forgiving mercy, were not with Zwingli, as with Luther, the centre and focus of his aspirations and religious interests. He knew not that fervour and intenseness which made Luther grasp at every means for bringing home God’s grace to congregations of believers, or to each individual Christian according to his spiritual need. His view, from the very first, extended rather to the totality of religious truth, as revealed by God in Scripture, but sadly disfigured in the creeds of the Church by man’s additions and misinterpretations; and he aimed, far more than Luther, at a reconstruction of moral, and especially of communal life, in conformity with what the Word of God appeared to demand. It was easier for him, therefore, to break with the past: critical scruples against tradition did not weigh so heavily on his conscience. His critical faculties, no doubt, were sharpened by the humanistic culture he had acquired. Compared with Luther’s peculiar meditative mood, and his half-choleric, half-melancholic temperament, Zwingli evinced, in all his conduct and demeanour, a more clear and sober intelligence, and a far calmer and more easy disposition. His practical policy and conduct was allied with a tendency to judicial severity, in contrast to the free spirit which animated Luther. So rigorous and narrow-minded was his zeal against the toleration of images, that the Wittenberg theologians could not help detecting in him a spirit akin to that of Carlstadt and the other fanatics. In renouncing the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation and the idea of a sacrifice, Zwingli had rejected altogether the supposition of a Real Presence of Christ’s Body at the Sacrament; nay, as he declared later on, he had never truly believed in it. He quoted the words of Christ, ‘The flesh profiteth nothing’ (St. John vi. 63). He would understand by the Sacrament simply a spiritual feeding of the faithful, who, by the Word of God and His Spirit, are enabled to enjoy in faith the salvation purchased by the death of Christ. He saw no particular necessity for offering this salvation to them by an administration of Christ’s Body, which had been given for them, through the visible medium of the bread; nor did he see how by so doing their faith could be strengthened. In Luther’s view the practical significance of the Real Presence lay in this, that in this special manner the Christian, who felt his need of salvation, was assured, and became a partaker, of forgiveness and communion with his Saviour. With Zwingli, such a visible communication of the Divine gift of salvation was opposed to his conception of God and the Divine Nature; just as this conception was opposed to that kind of union of the Divine and human nature in Christ Himself, by virtue of which, according to Luther, Christ was able and willing to be actually present everywhere in the Sacrament with His human, transfigured body. Inasmuch, said Zwingli, as this spiritual feeding took place in faith everywhere, and not only at the Sacrament, it was no essential part of the Sacrament; the real essence whereof consisted in this, that the faithful here confessed by that act their common belief in the commemoration of Christ’s death, and, as members of His Body, pledged themselves to such belief: he called the Sacrament the symbol of a pledge. Luther himself, as we have seen, had taught from the first that the Sacrament or Communion should represent the union of Christians with the spiritual Body, or their communion of the spirit, of faith, and of love. But with him this communion was a secondary condition; it was the feeding on the Body of Christ Himself which was to promote such communion with one another and, above all, with Christ. Zwingli explained the word ‘is’ of our Lord, in His institution of the Sacrament, to mean ‘signifies.’ Oecolampadius preferred the explanation that the bread was not the Body in the proper sense of the word, but a symbol of the Body. In point of fact, this was a distinction without a difference.
Such, briefly stated, was the doctrinal controversy in which the two Reformers, the German and the Swiss, now engaged, and which had first brought them into contact.
About the same time Luther made the acquaintance of another opponent of his doctrine of the Lord’s Supper, the Silesian Kaspar Schwenkfeld. He also, like his friend Valentin Krautwald, denied the Real Presence; but sought to interpret the words of institution in yet another manner, connecting with his theory of their meaning deeper mystical ideas of the means of salvation in general, which at least in some quarters and to a small extent, have still survived.
In all of them, however–in Carlstadt, Zwingli, Schwenkfeld, and the rest–Luther, as he wrote to his friends at Reutlingen, perceived only one and the same puffed up, carnal mind, twisting about and struggling, to avoid having to remain subject to the Word of God.
His first public declaration against Zwingli’s new doctrine was in 1526, in his preface to the Syngramma or treatise of the fourteen Swabian ministers, written, as his opening words express it, ‘against the new fanatics, who put forth novel dreams about the Sacrament, and confuse the world.’
Blow upon blow followed in the battle thus commenced. While Oecolampadius was busy composing a reply to the treatise and its preface, by which he in particular had been assailed, Luther proceeded to follow up the attack. The same year he published a ‘Sermon on the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, against the Fanatics;’ and in the following spring a larger work with the title ‘A Proof that Christ’s Words of Institution, “This is My Body,” &c., still stand, against the Fanatics.’ He concludes the latter with the wish, ‘God grant that they may be converted to the truth; if not, that they may twist cords of vanity wherewith to catch themselves, and fall into my hands.’ Just then, however, Zwingli had written against him, and to him, and the missive arrived at the moment when he had issued the last-named work. Zwingli wrote in Latin, entitling his tract, ‘A Friendly Exposition of the matter concerning the Sacrament,’ and sent it with a letter to Luther. These were followed almost immediately by a reply, in German, to Luther’s Sermon, under the title of ‘A Friendly Criticism of the Sermon of the Excellent Martin Luther against the Fanatics.’ Zwingli had scarcely had Luther’s last written work in his hands when he replied to it in a new treatise: ‘A proof that Christ’s words, “This is My Body which is given for you,” will for all ages retain the ancient and only meaning, and that Martin Luther in his last book has neither taught nor proved his own and the Pope’s meaning;’ the title thus indicating that Luther’s and the Pope’s meaning were one and the same. Oecolampadius at the same time published ‘A fair Reply’ to Luther’s work. These were the writings of the Sacramentarians which reached Luther during the troublous time of the plague at Wittenberg, and filled him with the pain of which we heard him then complain.
Zwingli’s doctrine, from the time of its first announcement, had seemed to Luther nothing but a visionary–nay, ‘devilish’ perversion of the truth and the Word of God. The progress of the controversy, so far from healing the difference between them, tended only to sharpen and intensify it. From the first hour the two Reformers met in opposition, the gulf was already fixed which henceforth divided Evangelical Protestantism into two separate Confessions and Church communities.
This is not the place to pass judgment on the matter in controversy, or to trace minutely the leading points of dogma involved in the dispute. Regarding it, however, by the light of history, it must be acknowledged and avowed that this was no mere passionate quarrel about words alone or propositions of dogmatic and metaphysical interest, but devoid of any religious importance. Even in the attempts to establish points of detail, reference was constantly made, on both sides, to deep questions and views of Christian religion.
Not only did Zwingli and Oecolampadius, in their anti-literal and figurative interpretation of the words of institution, endeavour to support it by Scriptural analogies, more or less appropriate, but in the practical objections they raised, which Luther treated as over-curious subtleties of human reason, they were actuated in reality by motives of a religious character. In their view, a pure and reverential conception of God was inconsistent with the idea of such an offertory of Divine gifts, consisting of material elements and for mere bodily nourishment. Not indeed that Luther, in accepting the words in their literal sense, had become a slave to the letter, in contradiction to the free and lofty spirit in which he had elsewhere accepted the contents of Holy Scripture. The question with him here was about a word of unique importance–a word used by Christ on the threshold, so to speak, of His death for our redemption; and we have already remarked what value he attached to the actual bodily presence indicated by that word, as assuring and imparting salvation to those who partook at His table in faith. No analogies to the contrary, derived from other figurative expressions, would content him, though of course he never denied that such expressions could and did occur throughout the Bible. The text, ‘The flesh profiteth nothing,’ on which Zwingli primarily relied, Luther understood as referring not to the flesh of Christ, but to the carnal mind of man; though he was careful to declare that it was not the fleshly presence, as such, of our Saviour which gave the Sacrament its value and importance; nor must the feeding of the communicants be a mere bodily feeding, but that the word and promise of Christ were there present, and that faith alone in that word and promise could make the feeding bring salvation. God’s glory was therein exalted to the highest, that from His pitying love he made Himself equal with the lowest.
In the doctrine concerning the person of the Redeemer, a point to which the controversy further led, the Church had hitherto affirmed simply a union of the Divine and human natures, each retaining the attributes and qualities peculiar to itself. Luther wished to see in the Man Jesus, the Divine nature, which stooped to share humanity, conceived and realised with deeper and more active fervour. As the Son of God He died for us, and as the Son of Man He was exalted, with His body, to sit at the right hand of God, which is not limited to any place, and is at once nowhere and everywhere. It is true, Luther does not proceed to explain how this body is still a human body, or indeed a body at all. Zwingli, in keeping the two natures distinct, wished to preserve the sublimity of his God and the genuine humanity of the Redeemer; but in so doing, he ended by making the two natures run parallel, so to speak, in a mere stiff, dogmatic formulary, and by an artificial interpretation and analysis of the words of Scripture touching the One Jesus, the Son of God and man.
The manner, however, in which this controversy was conducted on both sides betrays an utter failure on the part of either combatant to apprehend and do justice to the religious and Christian motives, which, with all their antagonism, never ceased to animate the opposite party. Luther’s attitude towards Zwingli we have already noticed. We have seen how his zeal, in particular, prompted him too often to see in the conduct of individual opponents simply and solely the dominating influence of that spirit, from which certain pernicious tendencies, according to his own convictions, proceeded and had to be combated. Thus it was in this instance. It was all visionary nonsense, nay, sheer devilry, and be attacked it in language of proportionate violence. From Zwingli a different attitude was to be expected, from the amicable titles of his treatises and the personal correspondence with Luther which he himself invited. He adopted here for the most part, as in other matters, a calm and courteous tone, and exercised a power of self-restraint to which Luther was a stranger. But with a lofty mien, though in the same tone, he rejected Luther’s propositions, as the fruit of ludicrous obstinacy and narrowness of mind, nay, as a retrograde step into Popery. His letter, moreover, embittered the contest by importing into it extraneous matter of reproach, such as, in particular, Luther’s conduct in the Peasants’ War. Luther had reason to say of him, ‘He rages against me, and threatens me with the utmost moderation and modesty.’ Zwingli’s later replies evince a straightforwardness we miss in the earlier ones, but they are marred by much rudeness and coarseness of language, and display throughout a lofty self-consciousness and a triumphant assurance of victory.
Luther, after reading the last-mentioned treatises of Zwingli and Oecolampadius, resolved to publish one answer more, the last; for Satan, he said, must not be suffered to hinder him further in the prosecution of other and more important matters. At this time he was particularly anxious to complete his translation of the Bible, being now hard at work with the books of the Prophets. His answer to Zwingli grew ultimately into the most exhaustive of all his contributions to the dispute. It appeared in March 1528 under the title of ‘Confession concerning the Lord’s Supper.’ He went over once more all the most important questions and arguments which had formed the subject of contention, expounded his ideas more fully on the Person and Presence of Christ, and explained calmly and impressively the passages of Scripture relating thereto. He concluded with a short summary of his own confession of Christian faith, that men might know, both then and after his death, how carefully and diligently he had thought over everything, and that future teachers of error might not pretend that Luther would have taught many things otherwise at another time and after further reflection.
Zwingli and Oecolampadius hastened at once to prepare new pamphlets in reply, and to publish them with a dedication to the Elector John and the Landgrave Philip. But Luther adhered to his resolve. He let them have the last word, as he had done with Erasmus. They had not contributed anything new to the dispute.
While Luther was writing his last treatise against the Sacramentarians, he found himself obliged to issue a fresh protest against the Anabaptists. This was a tract entitled ‘On Anabaptism; to two pastors.’ But while denouncing these sectaries, he protested strongly against the manner in which the civil authorities were dealing with them, by the infliction of punishment and even death on account of their principles, even when no seditious conduct could be alleged against them. Everyone, he said, should be allowed to believe what he liked. Similarly he wrote to Nuremberg shortly after, where as we have already mentioned, the new errors were spreading, saying that he could in no wise admit the right to execute false prophets or teachers; it was quite enough to expel them. Luther in this distinguished himself above most of the men of the Reformation. At Zurich, while Zwingli was accusing Luther of cruelty, Anabaptists were being drowned in public.
The foreground is now occupied again by the struggle with Catholicism–in other words, by the contest with the German princes who were hostile to the Reformation, and with the Emperor himself and the majority of the Diet.
CHAPTER IV.
CHURCH DIVISIONS IN GERMANY–WAR WITH THE TURKS–THE CONFERENCE AT MARBURG, 1529.
In the war against the Pope and France an imperial army in 1527 had stormed and plundered Borne. God, as Luther said, had so ordained, that the Emperor, who persecuted Luther for the Pope, had to destroy the Pope for Luther. But Charles V. was not then in a position to break with the Head of the Church. In the treaty concluded with the Pope in November, mention was again made of extirpating the Lutheran heresy. And whilst in Italy the war with France was still going on, the Emperor in the spring of 1528 sent an ambassador to the German Courts, to rouse fresh zeal for the Church in this matter.
But before the threatened danger actually reached the Evangelical party, it was preceded by disquieting rumours and false alarms.
In March 1528 a new Diet was to assemble at Ratisbon. Luther heard in February of strange designs being meditated there by the Papists. His wish was that Charles’s brother Ferdinand might be detained in Hungary, where he was occupied in fighting the Turks and their _protege,_ Prince John Zapolya of Transylvania, and that the Diet should be prevented from meeting. Luther’s adversaries, on the other hand, feared an unfavourable decision from the Estates, and the Emperor at length peremptorily forbade their meeting.
Just about this time, John Pack, a steward of the chancery who had been dismissed by Duke George of Saxony, came to the Landgrave Philip and informed him of a league concluded with King Ferdinand by the Dukes of Saxony and Bavaria, the Electors of Mayence and Brandenburg, and several Bishops, to attack the Evangelical princes. The Electorate of Saxony, where John was just then engaged in completing the re-organisation of the Church, was to be partitioned among them, and Hesse was to be allotted to Duke George. John and Philip quickly formed an offensive and defensive alliance, and called out their troops. The whole scheme, as was shortly proved beyond dispute, was an invention, and the pretended treaty a forgery, of Pack, who had been paid a large sum for his revelations. Luther himself had no doubt of the genuineness of the document, and persisted even afterwards in his belief. But while the Landgrave, with his habitual vehemence, was impatient to strike quickly, before their enemies were prepared, both Luther and the other Wittenberg theologians did their utmost to restrain their sovereign from any act of violence. Luther earnestly bade him remember the words: ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth’ (St. Matt. v. 5),–‘As much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men’ (Rom. xii. 18),–‘Those that take the sword, shall perish with the sword’ (St. Matt. xxvi. 52). He warned them that ‘one durst not paint the devil over one’s door, nor ask him to stand godfather.’ He feared a civil war among the princes, which would be worse than a rising of the peasants, and utterly ruinous to Germany. Philip accordingly stayed his hand, until the reply of his supposed enemies, from whom he demanded an explanation, puzzled him as to the meaning of Pack’s overtures.
A private letter sent by Luther to Link, in which he spoke of George as a fool, and said he mistrusted his promises, led afterwards, on George’s learning its contents, to a new and bitter quarrel between the two. The Duke made a violent attack on Luther in a pamphlet, which appeared early in 1521, to which the latter replied with equal violence, denouncing the abuse of ‘secret (_i.e._ private) and stolen letters.’ George retorted in the same strain, and persuaded his cousin John, to whom he addressed a formal complaint, to prohibit Luther from printing anything more against him without Electoral permission;–a step which effectually silenced his opponent.
On November 30, 1528, the Emperor summoned a Diet to meet at Spires on February 21 of the following year, in order that decisive and energetic measures should be taken–as recommended once more by the Pope–to secure the unity and sole supremacy of the Catholic Church. The chief subjects named for deliberation were, the armament against the Turks, and the innovations in matters of religion.
As regards the war against the Turks, Luther, who had previously let fall some occasional remarks about certain wholesome effects it would have in checking the designs of the Papacy, let his voice be heard, notwithstanding, in summoning the whole nation to do battle against the fearful and horrible enemy, whom they had hitherto suffered so shamefully to oppress them. Since the latter part of the summer of 1528 he had been engaged upon a pamphlet ‘On the War against the Turks,’ the publication of which was accidentally delayed till March, when he was busy with his Catechism.
In this pamphlet he spoke to his fellow-Germans, with the noblest fire and in the fulness of his strength, as a Christian, a citizen, and a patriot, and with a clearness and decision derived from convictions and principles of his own. He had no wish to preach a new crusade; for the sword had nothing to do with religion, but only with bodily and temporal things. But he exhorted and encouraged the authority, whom God had entrusted with temporal power, to take up the sword against the all-devouring enemy, with sure trust in God and certain confidence in his mission. By the ‘authority’ he meant the Emperor, in whom he recognised the head of Germany. He it was who must fight against the Turks; under his banner they must march, and upon that banner should be seen the command of God, which said ‘Protect the righteous, but punish the wicked.’ ‘But,’ asked Luther, ‘how many are there who can read those words on the Emperor’s banner, or who seriously believe in them?’ He complained that neither Emperor nor princes properly believed that they were Emperor and princes, and therefore thought little about the protection they owed to their subjects. Further on he rebuked the princes for letting matters go on as if they had no concern in them, instead of advising and assisting the Emperor with all the means in their power. He knew well the pride of some of the princes, who would like to see the Emperor a nonentity and themselves the heroes and masters. Rebellion, he said, was punished in the case of the peasants; but if rebellion were punished also among princes and nobles, he fancied there would be very few of them left. He feared that the Turk would bring some such punishment upon them, and he prayed God to avert it. Finally, he bade them remember not to buckle on their armour too loosely, and underrate their enemies, as Germans were too prone to do. He warned them not to tempt God by inadequate preparation, and sacrifice the poor Germans at the shambles, nor as soon as the victory was won to ‘sit down again and carouse until the hour of need returned.’