Pope obstinately opposing a Council, and in that case, of a possible combination of the entire German nation against the Papal see. He knew, indeed, well enough, that the Holy Father, in making this promise, had no intention whatever of keeping it. The Pope now sent a nuncio to the German princes, to make preparations for giving effect to his promise; the Emperor sent with him an ambassador of his own, as well for his control as his support.
When the nuncio and ambassador reached John Frederick at Weimar, the Elector consulted with Luther, Bugenhagen, Jonas, and Melancthon about the object of their coming, and for that purpose, on June 15, 1533, he came in person to Wittenberg, and had an opinion drawn up in writing. The Papal invitation to the Council stated that, agreeably with the demands of the Germans, it should be a free Christian Council, and also that it should be held in accordance with ancient usage as from the beginning. Luther declared that this was merely a ‘muttering in the dark,’ half angel-like, half devil-like. For if by the words ‘from the beginning’ were meant the primitive Christian assemblies, such as those of the Apostles (Acts xv.), then the Council now intended was bound to act according to the Word of God, freely, and without regard to any future Councils; a Council on the other hand, held according to previous usage, as, for example, that of Constance, was a Council contrary to the Word of God, and held in mere human blindness and wantonness. The Pope, in describing the Council proposed by himself as a free one, was making sport of the Emperor, the request of the Evangelicals, and the decrees of the Diet. How could the Pope possibly tolerate a free Christian Council when he must be quite aware how disadvantageous such a Council would be to himself? Luther’s advice was briefly summed up in this: to restrict themselves to the bare formalities of speech required, and to wait for further events. ‘I think it is best,’ he said, ‘not to busy ourselves at present with anything more than what is necessary and moderate, and that can give no handle to the Pope or the Emperor to accuse us of intemperate conduct. Whether there be a Council or not, the time will come for action and advice.’ And it soon became clear enough, that Clement at any rate would not convene a Council. He now entered into an understanding with King Francis, who was again meditating an attack against the power of Charles V., listened to his proposal that the Council might be abandoned, and in March 1534 announced to the German princes that, agreeably to the King’s wish, he had resolved to adjourn its convocation.
How firmly Luther persisted–Council or no Council–in his uncompromising opposition to the Romish system, was now shown by several of his new writings, more especially by his treatise ‘On private Masses and the Consecration of Priests.’ Concerning private masses, and the sacrifice of Christ’s Body supposed to be there offered, he now declared that, where the ordinance of Christ was so utterly perverted, Christ’s Body was assuredly not present at all, but simple bread and simple wine was worshipped by the priest in vain idolatry, and offered for others to worship in like manner. He knew how they would ‘come rolling up to him with the words, “Church, Church; custom, custom,” just as they had answered him once before in his attack on indulgences; but neither the Church nor custom had been able to preserve indulgences from their fate.’ In the Church, even under the Popedom, he recognised a holy place, for in it was baptism, the reading of the Gospel, prayer, the Apostles’ Creed, &c. But he repeats now, what he had said in his most pungent writings during the earlier struggles of the Reformation, namely, that devilish abominations had entered into this place, and so penetrated it with their presence, that only the light of the Holy Spirit would enable one to distinguish between the place itself and these abominations. He contrasts the mass-holding priests and their stinking oil of consecration with the universal Christian priesthood and the evangelical office of preacher. To the principle of this priesthood he still firmly adhered, faithless though he saw the large mass of the congregations to the priestly character with which baptism had invested them, and strictly as he had to guide his action, in the appointment and outward constitution of that office, by existing circumstances and historical requirements. Thus he repeats what he had said before, ‘We are all born simple priests and pastors in baptism; and out of such born priests, certain are chosen or called to certain offices, and it is their duty to perform the various functions of those offices for us all.’ This universal priesthood he would assert and utilise in the celebration of Divine service and in the true Christian mass; and he appeals for that purpose to the true worship of God by an Evangelical congregation. ‘There,’ he says, ‘our priest or minister stands before the altar, having been duly and publicly called to his priestly office; he repeats publicly and distinctly Christ’s words of institution; he takes the Bread and Wine, and distributes it according to Christ’s words; and we all kneel beside and around him, men and women, young and old, master and servant, mistress and maid, all holy priests together, sanctified by the Blood of Christ. And in such our priestly dignity are we there, and (as pictured in Revelations iv.) we have our crowns of gold on our heads, harps in our hands, and golden censers; and we do not let our priest proclaim for himself the ordinance of Christ, but he is the mouthpiece of us all, and we all say it with him from our hearts, and with sincere faith in the Lamb of God, Who feeds us with His Body and Blood.’
In 1533 Erasmus published a work wherein he endeavoured to effect in his own way the restoration of unity in the Church, by exhorting men to abolish practical abuses and show submission in doctrinal disputes, professing for his own part unvarying subjection to the Church. In opposition to him, Luther hit the right point in a preface he wrote to the reply of the Marburg theologian Corvinus. Erasmus, he said, only strengthened the Papists, who cared nothing about a safe truth for their consciences, but only kept on crying out ‘Church, Church, Church.’ For he too kept on simply repeating that he wished to follow the Church, whilst leaving everything doubtful and undetermined until the Church had settled it. ‘What,’ asks Luther, ‘is to be done with those good souls, who, bound in conscience by the word of Divine truth, cannot believe doctrines evidently contrary to Scripture? Shall we tell them that the Pope must be obeyed so that peace and unity may be preserved?’ When, therefore, Erasmus sought to obtain unity of faith by mutual concession and compromise, Luther answered by declaring such unity to be impossible, for the simple reason that the Catholics, by their very boasting of the authority of the Church, absolutely refused on their part to make any concession at all. But so far as ‘unity of charity’ was concerned, he held that on that point the Evangelicals needed no admonishment, for they were ready to do and suffer all things, provided nothing was imposed upon them contrary to the faith. They had never thirsted for the blood of their enemies, though the latter would gladly persecute them with fire and sword. As for Erasmus himself, Luther, as already stated, simply regarded him as a sceptic, who with his attitude of subjection to the Church, sought only for peace and safety for himself and his studies and intellectual enjoyments. Acting on this view, Luther, in a letter to Amsdorf, written in 1534, and intended for publication, heaped reproaches on Erasmus which undoubtedly he uttered in honest zeal, but in which his zeal did not allow him to form an impartial estimate of his opponent or his writings. He saw the bad spirit of Erasmus reflected in other men, who, like him, had seen the true character of the Romish Church, but, like him also, rejoined her communion. Instances of this were found in his old friend Crotus, who had now entered the service of Cardinal Albert, and as his ‘plate-licker,’ as Luther called him, abused the Reformation; and in the theologian George Witzel, a pupil of Erasmus and student at Wittenberg, who formerly had been suspected even of sympathising with the peasants in their rebellion, and of rejecting the doctrine of the Trinity, but who now wished for a Reformation after Erasmus’ ideas, and was one of the foremost literary opponents of the Lutheran Reformation. Luther, however, deemed it superfluous, after all that he had said against the master, to turn also against his subordinates, and the mere mouthpieces of his teaching.
In addition to Luther’s polemics against Catholicism in general, must be mentioned a fresh quarrel with Duke George. The latter, in 1532, had expelled from Saxony some evangelically disposed inhabitants of Leipzig and Oschatz, decreed that everyone should appear once a year at church for confession, and ordered some seventy or eighty families of Leipzig, who had refused to do so, to quit his dominions. Luther sent letters, which were afterwards published, of comfort to the exiled, and of exhortation and advice to those who were threatened. Duke George thereupon complained to the Elector that Luther was exciting his subjects to sedition. Luther, in reply, spoke out again with double vehemence in a public vindication, whilst George made Cochlaeus write against him. Further quarrelling was ended by the two princes agreeing, in November 1533, to settle certain matters in dispute, and their theologians also were commanded to keep at peace. With regard to the future, however, Luther had spoken words of significance and weight to his persecuted brethren at Leipzig, when he reminded them what great and unexpected things God had done since the Diet of Worms, and how many bloodthirsty persecutors He had since then snatched away. ‘Let us wait a little while,’ he said, ‘and see what God will bring to pass. Who knows what God will do after the Diet of Augsburg, even before ten years have gone by?’
Firmly, however, as Luther refused to listen to any surrender in matters of faith, or to any subjection to a Catholic Council of the old sort, he desired no less to adhere loyally to the ‘political concord.’ His whole heart and sympathies, as a fellow-Christian and a good German, went out with the German troops in their march against the Turks, who he hoped might be well routed by the Emperor. He never reflected how perilous the consequences of a decisive victory by Charles V. over his foreign enemies would be for the Protestants of Germany, and how divided, therefore, these must feel, at least in their hopes and wishes, during the progress of the war. He only saw in him again the ‘dear good Emperor.’ He wished him like success against his evil-minded French enemy. The Pope especially he reproached for his persistent ill-will to the Emperor. The Popes, he said, had always been hostile to the Emperors, and had betrayed the best of them and wantonly thwarted their desires.
Early in 1534 Philip of Hesse set in earnest about his scheme, so momentous for Protestantism, of forcibly expelling King Ferdinand from Wurtemberg, and restoring it to the exiled Duke Ulrich. The latter, whom the Swabian League in 1519, upon a decision of the Emperor and Empire, had deprived of his territory, and transferred it to the House of Austria, was staying with the Landgrave in 1529, with whom he attended the conference at Marburg, and shared his views on Church matters. Since then the Swabian League was dissolved, and Philip seized this favourable opportunity to interfere on behalf of his friend. The King of France promised his aid, and in Germany, especially among the Catholic Bavarians, a strong desire prevailed to weaken the power of Austria. Luther’s public judgment being of such weight, and his counsels so influential with the Elector Frederick, Philip informed him, through pastor Ottinger of Cassel, of his preparations for war, lest he might otherwise be wrongly given to understand that he was meditating a step against the Emperor. His intention, he declared, was merely to ‘restore and reinstate Duke Ulrich to his rights in all fairness,’ in the sight of God and of his Imperial Majesty. He ‘belonged to no faction or sect:’–this, wrote Ottinger, he was ‘instructed by his princely Highness not to conceal from Luther.’ The latter, however, at a conference with his Elector and the Landgrave at Weimar, protested against a breach of the public peace, as tending to bring disgrace upon the gospel; and the Elector, in consequence, kept aloof from the enterprise. Philip, however, persisted, and carried it through with rapidity and success. Ferdinand, being helpless in the absence of the Emperor, consented, in the treaty of Cadan, to the restoration of Ulrich, who immediately set about a reformation of the Church in Wurtemberg. Luther recognised in this result the evident hand of God, in that, contrary to all expectation, nothing was destroyed and peace was happily restored. God would bring the work to an end.
Meanwhile the Schmalkaldic allies clung tenaciously to their league, and were intent on still further strengthening their position and preparing themselves for all emergencies. No scruples as to whether, if the Emperor should break the peace, they could venture to turn their arms against him, any longer disturbed them. The terms extorted from King Ferdinand by the Landgrave’s victorious campaign, were also in their favour. Ferdinand, in the treaty of Cadan, promised to secure them against the suits which the Imperial Chamber, notwithstanding the Religious Peace, still continued to institute against them, in return for which John Frederick and his allies consented to recognise his election as King of the Romans.
And in the interests and for the objects represented by the league, namely, to oppose a sufficiently strong and compact power to Roman Catholicism and its menaces, those further attempts were now made to promote internal union among the Protestants, to which Butzer had so unremittingly devoted his labours, and which the Landgrave Philip among the princes considered of the utmost value.
Luther, although he admitted having formed a more favourable opinion of Zwingli as a man, since their personal interview at Marburg, in no way altered his opinion of Zwinglianism or of the general tendency of his doctrines. Thus in a letter of warning sent by him in December 1532 to the burgomaster and town-council of Munster, he classed Zwingli with Munzer and other heads of the Anabaptists, as a band of fanatics whom God had judged, and pointed out that whoever once followed Zwingli, Munzer, or the Anabaptists, would very easily be seduced into rebellion and attacks on civil government. At the beginning of the next year he published a ‘Letter to those at Frankfort-on-the-Main,’ in order to counteract the Zwinglian doctrines and agitations there prevailing. He also warned the people of Augsburg against their preachers, inasmuch as they pretended to accept the Lutheran doctrine of the Sacrament, but in reality did nothing of the kind. He abstained from entering into any further controversy against the substance of doctrines opposed to his own. He was concerned not so much about the victory of his own doctrine, which he left with confidence in God’s hands, but lest, under the guise of agreement with him, error should creep in and deceit be practised in a matter so sacred and important. He always felt suspicious of Butzer on this point.
He now saw the evil and terrible fruits of that spirit which had possessed Munzer and the Anabaptists,–such fruits as he had always expected from it. In Munster, where his warning had passed unregarded, the Anabaptists had been masters since February 1584. As the pretended possessors of Christianity in its intellectual and spiritual purity, they established there a kingdom of the saints, with a mad, sensual fanaticism, a coarse worship of the flesh, and a wild thirst for blood. This kingdom was demolished the next year by the combined forces of the Emperor and the bishop, but a further consequence of their defeat was the exclusion of Protestantism from the city, which submitted again to episcopal authority. About the Zwinglian ‘Sacramentarianism’ Luther wrote at that time, ‘God will mercifully do away with this scandal, so that it may not, like that of Munster, have to be done away with by force.’
Butzer, however, did not allow himself to be deterred or wearied. His wish was that the agreement in doctrine which had already been arrived at between Luther and the South Germans admitted to the Swabian League, should be publicly and emphatically acknowledged and expressed. He laboured and hoped to convince even the people of Zurich and the other Swiss that they attached–as, in fact, they did–too harsh a meaning to Luther’s doctrines, and so to induce them to reconcile them as nearly as they could with their own. But they could not be persuaded further than to admit that Christ’s Body was really present in the Sacrament, as food for the souls of those who partook in faith. They were as suspicious, from their standpoint, of his attempts at mediation, as Luther was from his. Butzer represented to the Landgrave that the South German towns, his allies, were united in doctrine, and that the only objection raised by the Swiss was to the notion that Christ and His Body became actual ‘food for the stomach,’–a notion which Luther also refused wholly to entertain. For when the latter said that Christ’s Body was eaten with the mouth, he explained at the same time that the mouth indeed only touched the bread and did not reach this Body, and that his doctrine was simply a declaration of a sacramental unity, in so far as the mouth eats the bread which is united with the body in the Sacrament. The matter, said Butzer, was a mere dispute about words, and was only so difficult to settle because they had ‘abused and sent each other to the devil too much.’
[Illustration: PIG. 43.–BUTZER. (From the old original woodcut of Reusner.)]
The Landgrave Philip wrote to Luther, and Luther now repeated with warmth his own desire for a ‘well-established union,’ which would enable the Protestants to oppose a common front to the immoderate arrogance of the Papists. He only warned him again lest the matter should remain ‘rotten and unstable in its foundations.’ The Landgrave then arranged, with Luther’s approval, a conference between Melancthon and Butzer at Cassel for December 27, 1534. Luther sent to them a ‘Consideration, whether unity is possible or not.’ He repeated in this tract, with studied precision and emphasis, those tenets of his doctrine to which Butzer had referred. The matter, he said, ought not to remain uncertain or ambiguous. But when Butzer now agreed with Luther’s own opinion, and sent to him at Wittenberg an explanation that Christ’s Body was truly present, but not as food for the stomach, Luther, in January 1535, declared as his judgment, that, since the South German preachers were willing to teach in accordance with the Augsburg Confession, he, for his part, neither could nor would refuse such concord; and since they distinctly confessed that Christ’s Body was really and substantially presented and eaten, he could not, if their hearts agreed with their words, find fault with these words. He would only prefer, as there was still too much mistrust among his own brethren, that the act of concord should not be concluded quite so suddenly, but that time should be allowed for a general quieting down. ‘Thus,’ he said, ‘our people will be able to moderate their suspicion or ill-will, and finally let it drop; and if thus the troubled waters are calmed on both sides, a real and permanent union can be ultimately brought about.’ Of the Swiss no notice was taken in these negotiations.
Meanwhile Butzer and Philip had to rest content with this; and was it not an important step forwards? This work of union, together with the Council which was to help in uniting the whole Church, took a prominent place during the next few years of Luther’s life and labours.
CHAPTER II.
NEGOTIATIONS RESPECTING A COUNCIL AND UNION AMONG THE PROTESTANTS.–THE LEGATE VERGERIUS 1535.–THE WITTENBERG CONCORD 1536.
Pope Paul III., who succeeded Clement VII. in October 1534, seemed at once determined to bring about in reality the promised Council. And in fact he was quite earnest in the matter. He was not so indifferent as his predecessor to the real interests of the Church and the need of certain reforms, and he hoped, like a clever politician, to turn the Council, which could now no longer be evaded, to the advantage of the Papacy. With this object, and with a view in particular of arranging the place where the Council should be held, which he proposed should be Mantua, he sent a nuncio, the Cardinal Vergerius, to Germany.
In August 1535 Luther was desired by his Elector to submit an opinion on the proposals of the Pope. He thought it sufficient to repeat the answer he had given two years before, namely, that the prince had then fully expressed his zeal for the restoration of Church unity by means of a Council, but at the same time had required that its decisions should be strictly according to God’s Word, and declared that he could not give any definite consent without his allies. Luther still declined, moreover, to believe that the project of a Council was sincere.
The university of Wittenberg had been removed during the summer to Jena, on account of a fresh outbreak of the plague, or at all events an alarm of it, and there they remained till the following February. Luther, however, would not listen to the idea of leaving Wittenberg. This time he could stay there in all rest and cheerfulness with Bugenhagen, and make merry with the idle fears of others. To the Elector, who was full of anxiety about him, Luther wrote on July 9, saying that only one or two cases of the disease had appeared; the air was not yet poisoned. The dog-days being at hand, and the young people frightened, they might as well be allowed to walk about, to calm their thoughts, until it was seen what would happen. He noticed, however, that some had ‘caught ulcers in their pockets, others colic in their books, and others gout in their papers;’ some, too, had no doubt eaten their mother’s letters, and hence got heart-ache and homesickness. The Christian authorities, he said, must provide some strong medicine against such a disease, lest mortality might arise in consequence,–a medicine that would defy Satan, the enemy of all arts and discipline. He was astonished to find how much more was known of the great plague at Wittenberg in other parts than in the town itself, where in truth it did not exist, and how much bigger and fatter lies grew the farther they travelled. He assured his friend Jonas, who had gone away with the university, that, thanks to God, he was living there in solitude, in perfect health and comfort; only there was a dearth of beer in the town, though he had enough in his own cellar. Nor did Luther afterwards give way to fear when compelled to acknowledge several fatal cases of the plague, and when his own coachman once seemed to be stricken with it. He himself was a sufferer, throughout the winter, from a cough and other catarrhic affections. ‘But my greatest illness,’ he wrote to a friend, ‘is, that the sun has so long shone upon me,–a plague which, as you know well, is very common, and many die of it.’
The Papal nuncio now arrived at Wittenberg, and desired to speak to Luther in person. After an interview at Halle with the Archbishop Albert, he had taken the road through Wittenberg on his way to visit the Elector of Brandenburg at Berlin. On the afternoon of November 6, a Saturday, he entered Wittenberg in state, with twenty-one horses and an ass, intending to take up his quarters there for the night, and was received with all due honour at the Elector’s castle by the governor Metzsch. Luther was invited, at the nuncio’s request, to sup with him that evening, but as the former declined the invitation, he was asked with Bugenhagen to take breakfast with him the next morning. It was the first time, since his summons by Caietan at Augsburg in 1518, that Luther had to speak with a Papal legate–Luther, who had long since been condemned by the Pope as an abominable child of corruption, and who in turn had declared the Pope to be Antichrist. So important must Vergerius have thought it, to attempt to influence, if even only partially, the powerful adviser of the Protestant princes, and thereby to prevent him from check-mating his plans in regard to a Council. And in this respect Vergerius must have had considerable confidence in himself.
The next morning Luther ordered his barber to come at an unusually early hour. Upon the latter expressing his surprise, Luther said jokingly, ‘I have to go to the Papal nuncio; if only I look young when he sees me, he may think “Fie, the devil, if Luther has played us such tricks before he is an old man, what won’t he do when he is one?”‘ Then, in his best clothes and with a gold chain round his neck, he drove to the castle with the town-priest Bugenhagen (Pomeranus). ‘Here go,’ he said, as he stepped into the carriage, ‘the Pope of Germany and Cardinal Pomeranus, the instruments of God!’
Before the legate he ‘acted,’ as he expressed it, ‘the complete Luther.’ He employed towards him only the most indispensable forms of civility, and made use of the most ill-humoured language. Thus he asked him whether he was looked upon in Italy as a drunken German. When they came to speak about the settlement of the Church questions in dispute by a Council, Vergerius reminded him that one individual fallible man had no right to consider himself wiser than the Councils, the ancient Fathers, and other theologians of Christendom. To this Luther replied that the Papists were not really in earnest about a Council, and, if it were held, they would only care to treat about such trifles as monks’ cowls, priests’ tonsures, rules of diet, and so forth; whereupon the legate turned to one of his attendants, who was sitting by, with the words ‘he has hit the right nail on the head.’ Luther went on to assert that they, the Evangelicals, had no need of a Council, being already fully assured about their own doctrine, though other poor souls might need one, who were led astray by the tyranny of the Popedom. Nevertheless he promised to attend the proposed Council, even though he should be burned by it. It was the same to him, he said, whether it was held at Mantua, Padua, or Florence, or anywhere else. ‘Would you come to Bologna?’ said Vergerius. Luther asked, thereupon, to whom Bologna belonged, and on being told ‘to the Pope,’ ‘Gracious heavens,’ he exclaimed, ‘has the Pope seized that town too?–Very well, I will come to you even there.’ Vergerius politely hinted that the Pope himself, would not refuse to come to Wittenberg. ‘Let him come,’ said Luther; ‘we shall be very glad to see him.’ ‘But,’ said Vergerius, ‘would you have him come with arms or without?’ ‘As he pleases,’ replied Luther; ‘we shall be ready to receive him in either way.’ When the legate, after their meal, was mounting his horse to depart, he said to Luther, ‘Be sure to hold yourself in readiness for the Council.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ was the reply, ‘with this my very neck and head.’
Vergerius afterwards related that he had found Luther to be coarse in conversation, and his Latin bad, and had answered him as far as possible in monosyllables. The excuse he urged for his interview was that Luther and Bugenhagen were the only men of learning at Wittenberg, with whom he could converse in Latin. He evidently felt himself unpleasantly deceived in the expectations and projects he had formed before the meeting. Ten years later, when his conflict with Evangelical doctrine had taught him thoroughly its real meaning and value, this high dignitary himself became a convert to it.
In the meantime, while the eyes of all were fixed upon the approaching Council, the state of affairs in Germany was eminently favourable to the Evangelicals.
The Emperor, during the summer of 1535, was detained abroad by his operations against the corsair Chaireddin Barbarossa in Tunis, and Luther rejoiced over the victory with which God blessed his arms. The King of France was threatening with fresh claims on Italian territory. The jealousy between Austria and Bavaria still continued. With regard to the Church, King Ferdinand learned to value Lutheranism at any rate as a barrier against the progress of the more dangerous doctrines of Zwingli. John Frederick journeyed in November 1535 to Vienna, to receive from him at length, in the name of the Emperor, the investiture of the Electorship, and met with a friendly reception.
Under these circumstances the Schmalkaldic League resolved, at a convention at Schmalkald in December 1535, to invite other States of the Empire, which were not yet recognised in the Religious Peace as members of the Augsburg Confession, to join them. The Dukes Barnim and Philip of Pomerania had now accepted this Confession. Philip also married a sister of John Frederick. Luther performed the marriage service on the evening of February 27 at Torgau, and Bugenhagen pronounced, the next morning, the customary benediction on the young couple, Luther being prevented from doing so by a fresh attack of giddiness. The following spring a convention of the allies at Frankfort-on-the-Main received the Duke of Wurtemberg, the Dukes of Pomerania, the princes of Anhalt, and several towns into their league.
Outside Germany, the Kings of France and England sought fellowship with the allies. Ecclesiastical and religious questions, of course, had first to be considered; and Luther with others was called on for his advice.
King Francis, so many of whose Evangelical subjects were complaining of oppression and persecution, was anxious, as he was now meditating a new campaign in Italy, to secure an alliance with the German Protestants against the Emperor, and accordingly pretended with great solicitude that he had in view important reforms in the Church, and would be glad of their assistance. They were invited to send Melancthon and Luther to him for that purpose. With these he negotiated also in person. Melancthon felt himself much attracted by the prospect thus opened to him of rendering important and useful service. The Elector, however, refused him permission to go, and rebuked him for having already entangled himself so far in the affair. Melancthon’s expectations were certainly very vain: the King only cared for his political interests, and in no case would he grant to any of his subjects the right to entertain or act upon religious convictions which ran counter to his own theory of the Church. Moreover, John Frederick’s relations with King Ferdinand had by this time become so peaceful, that the Elector was anxious not to disturb them by an alliance with the enemy of the Emperor. Melancthon, however, was much excited by his refusal and reproof; he suspected that others had maliciously intrigued against him with his prince. Luther, at first moved by Melancthon’s wish and the entreaties of French Evangelicals, had earnestly begged the Elector to permit Melancthon ‘in the name of God to go to France.’ ‘Who knows,’ he said, ‘what God may wish to do?’ He was afterwards startled on his friend’s account by the severe letter of the Elector, but was obliged to acknowledge that the latter was right in his distrust of the affair.
An alliance with England would have promised greater security, inasmuch as with Henry VIII. there was no longer any fear of his return to the Papacy, and with regard to the proceedings about his marriage, a reconciliation with the Emperor was scarcely to be expected. Envoys from him appeared in 1535 in Saxony and at the meeting at Schmalkald. Henry also wished for Melancthon, in order to discuss with him matters of orthodoxy and Church government, and Luther again begged permission of the Elector for him to go. But it was clearly seen from the negotiations conducted with the English envoys in Germany, how slender were the hopes of effecting any agreement with Henry VIII. on the chief points, such as the doctrine of Justification or of the mass, since the English monarch insisted every whit as strictly upon that Catholic orthodoxy, to which he still adhered, as he did upon his opposition to Papal power. Luther had already in January grown sick to loathing of the futile negotiations with England: ‘professing themselves to be wise, they became fools’ (Rom. i. 22). He advised therefore, in his opinion submitted to the Elector, that they should have patience with respect to England and the proper reforms in that quarter, but guarded himself against deviating on that account from the fundamental doctrines of belief, or conceding more to the King of England than they would to the Emperor and the Pope. As to contracting a political alliance with Henry, he left that question, as a temporal matter, for the prince and his advisers to decide; but it seemed to him dangerous, where no real sympathy prevailed. How hazardous it was to have anything to do with Henry VIII. was shown immediately after by his conduct towards his second wife Anna Boleyn, whom he had executed on May 19, 1536. Luther called this act a monstrous tragedy.
Among the German Protestants, however, the negotiations respecting the Sacramental doctrine were happily brought to maturity in a duly formulated ‘Concord.’ Peace also was secured with the Swiss, and therewith the possibility of an eventual alliance.
Now that Luther had once felt confidence in these attempts at union, he took the work in hand himself and proceeded steadily with it. In the autumn of 1535 he sent letters to a number of South German towns, addressed to preachers and magistrates–to Augsburg, Strasburg, Ulm, and Esslingen. He proposed a meeting or conference, at which they might learn to know each other better, and see what was to be borne with, what complied with, and what winked at. He wished nothing more ardently than to be permitted to end his life, now near its close, in peace, charity, and unity of spirit with his brethren in the faith. They also should ‘continue thus, helping, praying, and striving that such unity might be firm and lasting, and that the devil’s jaws might be stopped, who had gloried hugely in their want of unity, crying out “Ha! ha! I have won.”‘ These letters plainly show how glad was Luther now to see the good cause so advanced, and to be able to further it yet more. Both in them and in his correspondence with the Elector about the proposed meeting, he advised not to enlist too many associates, that there might be no restless, obstinate heads among them, to spoil the affair. He knew of such among his own adherents–men who went too far for him in the zeal of dogma.
The conference was appointed to be held at Eisenach in the following spring, on May 14, the fourth Sunday after Easter. Luther’s state of health would not permit him to undertake a journey to any distant place or in the winter. Just at this time, moreover, in March 1536, he had been tormented for weeks by a new malady, an intolerable pain in the left hip. Later on, he told one of his friends that he had with Christ risen from the dead at Easter (April 16), for he had been so ill at that time, that he firmly believed that his time had come to depart and be with Christ, for which he longed.
The South Germans readily accepted the invitation. The Strasburgers passed it on to the Swiss, and specially desired that Bullinger from Zurich might take part in the conference. The Swiss, however, who had received no direct invitation from Wittenberg, declined the proposal; they wished to adhere simply to their own articles of faith, which they had just formulated anew in the so-called ‘First Helvetian Confession,’ and which had expressly acknowledged at least a spiritual nutriment to be offered in the Sacramental symbols. They could not see anything to be gained by personal discussion. But they requested that their Confession might be kindly shown to Luther, and Bullinger sent him special greetings from himself and the Evangelical Churches of Switzerland. The preachers who were sent as deputies to Eisenach from the various South German towns, journeyed by way of Frankfort-on-the-Main, where just then the Schmalkaldic allies were assembled. On May 10 they went on, eleven in number, to Eisenach; they represented the communities of Strasburg, Augsburg, Memmingen, Ulm, Esslingen, Reutlingen, Furfeld, and Frankfort.
At the last moment the whole success, nay even the very plan of the conference, was imperilled. Melancthon had already been anxious and despondent, fearing a fresh and violent outburst of the controversy as a consequence of the impending discussion. Luther had just been freshly excited against the Zwinglians by a writing found among the papers Zwingli left behind him, and which Bullinger had published with high eulogiums upon the author, and also by a correspondence that had just appeared between Zwingli and Oecolampadius. Butzer, however, and his friends still wished to maintain their intimacy with these Zwinglians, and this correspondence was prefaced by an introduction ‘from his own pen. Furthermore, letters had reached Luther, representing that the people in the South German towns were not really taught the true Bodily Presence in the Sacrament. In addition to this, severe after-effects of his old illness again attacked him, rendering him unfit to travel to Eisenach. Accordingly, on May 12 he wrote to the deputies begging them to journey as far as Grimma, where he would either appear in person, or, if too weak, could at all events more easily communicate by writing to them and his friends.
The deputies, however, came straight to him at Wittenberg. In Thuringia they were joined by the pastors Menius of Eisenach and Myconius of Gotha, two of Luther’s friends who with him were honestly desirous of unity. The constant personal intercourse kept up during the journey served greatly to promote a mutual understanding.
Thus on Sunday, May 21, they arrived at length at Wittenberg.
The next day, the two Strasburgers, Capito and Butzer, held a preliminary interview with Luther, whose physical weakness made any lengthy negotiations very difficult. He expressed to them candidly and emphatically his desire, repeated again and again, that they should declare themselves at one with him. He would rather, however, leave matters as they had been, than enter into a union which might be only feigned or artificial, and must make bad worse. With regard to the Zwinglian publications, Butzer answered that he and his friends were in no way responsible for them, and that the preface, which consisted of a letter from himself, had been printed without his knowledge and consent. With regard to the doctrine of the Sacrament, the only question now left to decide was whether the unworthy and godless communicants verily partook of the Lord’s Body. Luther maintained that they did: it was to him the necessary consequence of a Bodily Presence, such as took place simply by virtue of the institution and sure promise of Christ, by which faith must abide in full trust and belief. Butzer expressed his decided assent to the doctrine of objective Presence and presentation; but the actual reception of the Lord’s Body, as offered from above, he could only concede to those communicants who, at least through some faith, placed themselves in an inward spiritual relation to that Body and accepted the institution of Christ, not to those who were simply there with their bodies and bodily mouths. To enable one to speak of a partaking of the Body, he was satisfied with that faith which was not exactly the right faith of the heart, and was connected with moral unworthiness, so that such guests ate to their own condemnation. He thus acknowledged that the unworthy, but not the man wholly devoid of faith, could partake of the Body and Blood of Christ. Luther, therefore, could feel assured that Butzer agreed with him in rejecting every view which held that, in the Sacrament, the Body of Christ was present only in the subjective representation and the imagination, or that faith there rose up out of itself, so to speak, to the Lord, instead of merely grasping at what was offered, and thereby being quickened and made strong. But it is unmistakable, that Luther and Butzer conceived in different ways both the manner of the Presence and the manner of partaking,–each of these, indeed, in a mysterious sense and one very difficult to be defined. Luther could scarcely have failed to observe the difference, which still remained between them, and the defect from which, according to his own convictions, the doctrine of the South Germans still suffered. The question was, whether he could look beyond this, and whether in the doctrine for which he had fought so keenly, he should be able and willing to distinguish between what was essential on the one hand, and what was non-essential or less essential on the other.
On the Tuesday all the deputies assembled at his house, together with his Wittenberg friends, and Menius and Myconius. Butzer having spoken on the deputies’ behalf, Luther conferred with them separately, and after they had declared their unanimous concurrence with Butzer, he withdrew with his friends into another room for a private consultation. On his return, he declared, on behalf of himself and his friends, that, after having heard from all present their answers and statement of belief, they were agreed with them, and welcomed them as beloved brethren in the Lord. As to the objection they had about the godless partakers, if they confessed that the unworthy received with the other communicants the Body of Christ, they would not quarrel on that point. Luther, so Myconius tells us, spoke these words with great spirit and animation, as was apparent from his eyes and his whole countenance. Capito and Butzer could not refrain from tears. All stood with folded hands and gave thanks to God.
On the following days other points were discussed, such as the significance of infant baptism, and the practice of confession and absolution, as to which an understanding was necessary, and was arrived at without any difficulty. The South Germans had also to be reassured about some individual forms of worship, unimportant in themselves, and which they found to have been retained from Catholic usage in the Saxon churches.
On the Thursday the proceedings were interrupted by the festival of the Ascension. Luther preached the evening sermon of that day on the text, ‘Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.’ Myconius relates of this sermon, ‘I have often heard Luther before, but it seemed to me then as if not he alone were speaking, but heaven was thundering in the name of Christ.’
On Saturday Butzer and Capito delivered themselves of their commissions on behalf of the Swiss. Luther declared after reading the Confession which they brought, that certain expressions in it were objectionable, but added a wish that the Strasburgers would treat with them further the subject, and the latter led him to hope that the communities in Switzerland, weary of dispute, desired unity.
The spirit of brotherly union received a touching and beautiful expression on the Sunday in the common celebration of the Sacrament, and in sermons preached by Alber of Reutlingen in the early morning, and by Butzer in the middle of the day.
The next morning, May 29, the meeting concluded with the signing of the articles which Melancthon had been commissioned to draw up. They recognised the receiving of Christ’s Body at the Sacrament by those who ‘ate unworthily,’ without saying anything about the faithless. The deputies who signed their names declared their common acceptance of the Augsburg Confession and the Apology. This formula, however, was only to be published after it had received the assent of the communities whom it concerned, together with their pastors and civil authorities. ‘We must be careful,’ said Luther, ‘not to raise the song of victory prematurely, nor give others an occasion for complaining that the matter was settled without their knowledge and in a corner.’ Luther himself began on the same Monday to write letters, inviting assent from different quarters to their proceedings. Among his own associates, at any rate, his intimate friend Amsdorf at Magdeburg had not been so conciliatory as himself: Luther waited eight days before informing him of the result of the conference.
Thus, then, unity of confession was established for the German Protestants, apart from the Swiss, for none of the Churches which had been represented at the meeting refused their assent. Luther now advanced a step towards the Swiss by writing to the burgomaster Meyer at Basle, who was particularly anxious for union, and who returned him a very friendly and hopeful answer. Butzer sought to work with them further in the same direction. But they could not reconcile themselves to the Wittenberg articles. They–that is to say, the magistrates and clergy of Zurich, Berne, Basle, and some other towns–were content to express their joy at Luther’s present friendly state of mind, together with a hope of future unity, and besought Butzer to inform Luther further about their own Confession and their objections to his own. Butzer was anxious to do this at a convention which the Schmalkaldic allies appointed to meet at Schmalkald, in view of the Council having been announced to be held in February 1537.
CHAPTER III.
NEGOTIATIONS RESPECTING A COUNCIL AND UNION AMONG THE PROTESTANTS (continuation):–MEETING AT SCHMALKALD, 1537.–PEACE WITH THE SWISS.–LUTHER’S FEIENDSHIP WITH THE BOHEMIAN BRETHREN.
A few days after the Protestants had effected an agreement at Wittenberg the announcement was issued from Rome of a Council, to be held at Mantua in the following year. The Pope already indicated with sufficient clearness the action he intended to take at it. He declared in plain terms that the Council was to extirpate the Lutheran pestilence, and did not even wish that the corrupt Lutheran books should be laid before it, but only extracts from them, and these with a Catholic refutation. Luther, therefore, had now to turn his energies at once in this direction.
He agreed, nevertheless, with Melancthon that the invitation should be accepted, although the Elector John Frederick was opposed to such a Council from the very first. It would be better, Luther thought, to protest at the Council itself against any unlawful or unjust proceeding. He hoped to be able to speak before the assembly at least like a Christian and a man.
The Elector thereupon commissioned him to compile and set forth the propositions or articles of faith, which, according to his conviction, it would be necessary to insist on at the Council, and directed him to call in for this purpose other theologians to his assistance. Luther accordingly drew up a statement. A few days after Christmas he laid it before his Wittenberg colleagues, and likewise before Amsdorf of Magdeburg, Spalatin of Altenburg, and Agricola of Eisleben. The last named was endeavouring to exchange his post at the high school at Eisleben, under the Count of Mansfeld, with whom he had fallen out, for a professor’s chair at Wittenberg, which had been promised him by the Elector; and now, on receiving his invitation to the conference, he left Eisleben for good without permission, taking his wife and child with him. Luther welcomed him as an old friend and invited him to his house as a guest. Luther’s statement was unanimously approved, and sent to the Elector on January 3.
Even in this summary of belief, intended as it was for common acceptance and for submission to a Council, Luther emphasised, with all the fulness and keenness peculiar to himself throughout the struggle, his antagonism to Roman Catholic dogma and Churchdom. Fondly as he clung at that time to reconciliation among the Protestants, he saw no possibility of peace with Rome.
As the first and main article he declared plainly that faith alone in Jesus could justify a man; on that point they dared not yield, though heaven and earth should fall. The mass he denounced as the greatest and most horrible abomination, inasmuch as it was ‘downright destructive of the first article,’ and as the chiefest of Papal idolatries; moreover, this dragon’s tail had begotten many other kinds of vermin and abominations of idolatry. With regard to the Papacy itself, the Augsburg Confession had been content to condemn it by silence, not having taken any notice of it in its articles on the essence and nature of the Christian Church. Luther now would have it acknowledged, ‘that the Pope was not by divine right (_jure divino_) or by warrant of God’s Word the head of all Christendom,’ that position belonging to One alone, by name Jesus Christ; and, furthermore, ‘that the Pope was the true Antichrist, who sets himself up and exalts himself above and against Christ.’ As for the Council, he expected that the Evangelicals there present would have to stand before the Pope himself and the devil, who would listen to nothing, but consider simply how to condemn and kill them. They should, therefore, not kiss the feet of their enemy, but say to him, ‘The Lord rebuke thee, Satan!’ (Zach. iii. 2).
The allies accordingly were anxious to consult together and determine at Schmalkald what conduct to pursue at the Council. An imperial envoy and a Papal nuncio wished also to attend their meeting. The princes and representatives of the towns brought their theologians with them to the number of about forty in all. The Elector John Frederick brought Luther, Melancthon, Bugenhagen, and Spalatin.
On January 29 the Wittenberg theologians were summoned by their prince to Torgau. From thence they travelled slowly by Grimma and Altenburg, where they were entertained with splendour at the prince’s castles, then by Weimar, where, on Sunday, February 4, Luther preached a sermon, and so on to the place of meeting. Luther had left his family and house in the care of his guest Agricola. On February 7 they arrived at Schmalkald.
The theologians at first were left unemployed. The members of the convention only gradually assembled. The envoy of the Emperor came on the 14th. Luther made up his mind for a stay there of four weeks. He preached on the 9th in the town church before the prince himself. The church he found, as he wrote to Jonas, so large and lofty, that his voice sounded to him like that of a mouse. During the first few days he enjoyed the leisure and rejoiced in the healthy air and situation of the place.
He was already suffering, however, from the stone, which had once before attacked him. A medical friend ascribed it partly to the dampness of the inns and the sheets he slept in. However, the attack passed off easily this time, and on the 14th he was able to tell Jonas that he was better. But he grew very tired of the idle time at Schmalkald. He said jokingly about the good entertainment there, that he and his friends were living with the Landgrave Philip and the Duke of Wurtemberg like beggars, who had the best bakers, ate bread and drank wine with the Nurembergers, and received their meat and fish from the Elector’s court. They had the best trout in the world, but they were cooked in a sauce with the other fish; and so on.
The Elector soon applied to him for an opinion as to taking part in the Council, which Luther again recommended should not be bluntly refused. A refusal, he said, would exactly please the Pope, who wished for nothing so much as obstacles to the Council; it was for this reason that, in speaking of the extirpation of heresy, he held up the Evangelicals as a ‘bugbear,’ in order to frighten them from the project. Good people might likewise object, on the ground that the troubles with the Turks and the Emperor’s engagement in the war with France, were made use of by the Evangelicals to refuse the Council, whilst in reality the knaves at Borne were reckoning on the Turkish and French wars to prevent the Council from coming to pass.
Luther now received through Butzer the communications from Switzerland, together with a letter from Meyer, the burgomaster of Basle. To the latter he sent on the 17th of the month a cheerful and friendly reply. He did not wish to induce him to make any further explanations and promises, but his whole mind was bent upon mutual forgiveness, and bearing with one another in patience and gentleness. In this spirit he earnestly entreated Meyer to work with him. ‘Will you faithfully exhort your people,’ he said, ‘that they may all help to quiet, soften, and promote the matter to the best of their power, that they may not scare the birds at roost.’ He promised also, for his part, ‘to do his utmost in the same direction.’
This same day, however, Luther’s malady returned; he concluded his letter with the words, ‘I cannot write now all I would, for I have been a useless man all day, owing to this painful stone.’ The next day, Sunday, when he preached a powerful sermon before a large congregation, the malady became much worse, and a week followed of violent pain, during which his body swelled, he was constantly sick, and his weakness generally increased. Several doctors, including one called in from Erfurt, did their utmost to relieve him. ‘They gave me physic,’ he said afterwards, ‘as if I were a great ox.’ Mechanical contrivances were employed, but without effect.’ I was obliged,’ he said, ‘to obey them, that it might not look as if I neglected my body.’
His condition appeared desperate. With death before his eyes, he thought of his arch-enemy the Pope, who might triumph over this, but over whom he felt certain of victory even in death. ‘Behold,’ he cried to God, ‘I die an enemy of Thy enemies, cursed and banned by Thy foe, the Pope. May he, too, die under Thy ban, and both of us stand at Thy judgment bar on that day.’ The Elector, deeply moved, stood by his bed, and expressed his anxiety lest God might take away with Luther His beloved Word. Luther comforted him by saying that there were many faithful men who, by God’s help, would become a wall of strength; nevertheless, he could not conceal from the prince his apprehension that, after he was gone, discord would arise even among his colleagues at Wittenberg. The Elector promised him to care for his wife and children as his own. Luther’s natural love for them, as he afterwards remarked, made the prospect of parting very hard for him to bear. To his sorrowing friends he still was able to be humorous. When Melancthon, on seeing him, began to cry bitterly, he reminded him of a saying of their friend, the hereditary marshal, Hans Loser, that to drink good beer was no art, but to drink sour beer, and then continued, in the words of Job, ‘What, shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?’ And again: ‘The wicked Jews,’ he said, ‘stoned Stephen; my stone, the villain! is stoning me.’ But not for an instant did he lose his trust in God and resignation to His will. When afraid of going mad with the pain, he comforted himself with the thought that Christ was his wisdom, and that God’s wisdom remained immutable. Seeing, as he did, the devil at work in his torture, he felt confident that even if the devil tore him to pieces Christ would revenge His servant, and God would tear the devil to pieces in return. Only one thing he would fain have prayed his God to grant–that he might die in the country of his Elector; but he was willing and ready to depart whenever God might summon him. Upon being seized with a fit of vomiting he sighed, ‘Alas, dear Father, take the little soul into Thy hand; I will be grateful to Thee for it. Go hence, thou dear little soul, go, in God’s name!’
At length an attempt was actually made to remove him to Gotha, the necessary medical appliances being not procurable at Schmalkald. On the 26th of the month the Erfurt physician, Sturz, drove him thither, together with Bugenhagen, Spalatin, and Myconius, in one of the Elector’s carriages. Another carriage followed them, with instruments and a pan of charcoal, for warming cloths. On driving off, Luther said to his friends about him,’ The Lord fill you with His blessing, and with hatred of the Pope.’
The first day they could not venture farther than Tambach, a few miles distant, the road over the mountains being very rough. The jolting of the carriage caused him intolerable torture. But it effected what the doctors could not. The following night the pain was terminated, and the feeling of relief and recovery made him full of joy and thankfulness. A messenger was sent at once, at two o’clock in the morning, with the news to Schmalkald, and Luther himself wrote a letter to his ‘dearly-loved’ Melancthon. To his wife he wrote saying, ‘I have been a dead man, and had commended you and the little ones to God and to our good Lord Jesus…. I grieved very much for your sakes.’ But God, he went on to say, had worked a miracle with him; he felt like one newly-born; she must thank God, therefore, and let the little ones thank their heavenly Father, without whom they would assuredly have lost their earthly one.
But on the 28th already, after his safe arrival at Gotha, he suffered so severe a relapse that during that night he thought, from his extreme weakness, that his end was near. He then gave to Bugenhagen some last directions, which the latter afterwards committed to writing, as the ‘Confession and Last Testament of the Venerable Father.’ Herein Luther expressed his cheerful conviction that he had done rightly in attacking the Papacy with the Word of God. He begged his ‘dearest Philip’ (Melancthon) and other colleagues to forgive anything in which he might have offended them. To his faithful Kate he sent words of thanks and comfort, saying that now for the twelve years of happiness which they had spent together, she must accept this sorrow. Once more he sent greetings to the preachers and burghers of Wittenberg. He begged his Elector and the Landgrave not to be disturbed by the charges made against them by the Papists of having robbed the property of the Church, and recommended them to trust to God in their labours on behalf of the gospel.
The next morning, however, he was again better and stronger. Butzer, who in regard to unity of confession and his relations with the Swiss had not been able to have any further conversation with Luther at Schmalkald, had at once, on receiving the good news from Tambach, gone straight to Luther at Gotha, accompanied by the preacher Wolfhart from Augsburg. Luther, notwithstanding his suffering, now discussed with them this matter, so important in his eyes. As an honest man, to whom nothing was so distasteful as ‘dissimulation,’ he earnestly warned them against all ‘crooked ways.’ The Swiss, in case he died, should be referred to his letter to Meyer; should God allow him to live and become strong, he would send them a written statement himself.
While, however, he was still at Gotha, the crisis of his illness passed, and he was relieved entirely of the cause of his suffering. The journey was continued cautiously and slowly, and a good halt was made at Weimar. From Wittenberg there came to nurse him a niece, who lived in his house: probably Lene Kaufmann, the daughter of his sister. To his wife he wrote from Tambach, telling her that she need not accept the Elector’s offer to drive her to him, it being now unnecessary. On March 14 he arrived again at his home. His recovery had made good progress, though, as he wrote to Spalatin, even eight days afterwards his legs could hardly support him.
Meanwhile the conference of the allies at Schmalkald resulted in their deciding to decline the Papal invitation to the Council. They informed the Emperor, in reply, that the Council which the Pope had in view was something very different to the one so long demanded by the German Diets; what they wanted was a free Council, and one on German, not Italian territory.
With regard to Luther’s articles, which he had drawn up in view of a Council, they saw no occasion to occupy themselves with their consideration. To their official Confession of Augsburg, which had formed among other things the groundwork and charter of the Religious Peace, and to the Apology, drawn up by Melancthon in reply to the Catholic ‘Refutation,’ they desired, however, now to add a protest against the authority and the Divine right of the Papacy. Melancthon prepared it in the true spirit of Luther, though in a calmer and more moderate tone than was usual with his friend. The majority of the theologians present at Schmalkald testified their assent to Luther’s articles by subscribing their names. Luther had his statement printed the following year. The Emperor, on account of the war with the Turks and the renewal of hostilities with France, had no time to think of compelling the allies to take part in a Council, and was quite content that no Council should be held at all. Whether the Pope himself, as Luther supposed, counted secretly on this result, and was glad to see it happen, may remain a matter of uncertainty.
At Schmalkald the seal was now set upon the Concord, which had been concluded the previous year at Wittenberg, and then submitted for ratification to the different German princes and towns, the formula there adopted being now signed by all the theologians present, and the agreement of the princes to abide by it being duly announced. Towards the Swiss, who declined to waive their objections to the Wittenberg articles, Luther maintained firmly the standpoint indicated in his letter to Meyer. Thus, in the following December he wrote himself to those evangelical centres in Switzerland from which Butzer had brought him the communication to Gotha; while the next year, in May 1538, he sent a friendly reply to a message from Bullinger, and again in June he wrote once more to the Swiss, on receiving an answer from them to his first letter. His constant wish and entreaty was that they should at least be friendly to, and expect the best of one another, until the troubled waters were calmed. He fully acknowledged that the Swiss were a very pious people, who earnestly wished to do what was right and proper. He rejoiced at this, and hoped that God, even if only a hedge obstructed, would help in time to remove all errors. But he could not ignore or disregard that on which no agreement had yet been arrived at; and he was right in supposing, and said so openly to the Swiss, that upon their side, as well as upon his own, there were many who looked upon unity not only with displeasure but even with suspicion. He himself had constantly to explain misinterpretations of his doctrine, and he did so with composure. He had never, he said, taught that Christ, in order to be present at the Sacrament, comes down from heaven; but he left to Divine omnipotence the manner in which His Body is verily given to the guests at His table. But he must guard himself, on the other hand, against the notion that, with the attitude he now adopted, he had renounced his former doctrine. And with this doctrine he held firmly to the conception of a Presence of Christ’s Body in the Sacrament different to and apart from that Presence for purely spiritual nourishment on which the Swiss now insisted. When Bullinger expressed his surprise that he should still talk of a difference in doctrine, he gave up offering any more explanations on the subject; and the Swiss, for their part, after his second letter, made no further attempt to effect a more perfect agreement. Luther’s desire was to keep on terms of peace and friendship with them, notwithstanding the difference still notoriously existing between both parties. On this very account he was loth to rake up the difference again by further explanations. By acting thus he believed he should best promote an ultimate understanding and unity, which was still the object of his hopes.
So far, therefore, during the years immediately following the death of Zwingli, success had attended the efforts to heal the fatal division which separated from Luther and the great Lutheran community those of evangelical sympathies in Switzerland and the South Germans, who were more or less subject to their influence, and which had excited the minds on both sides with such violence and passion. So far Luther himself had laboured to promote this result with uprightness and zeal; he had conquered much suspicion once directed against himself, he had sought means of peace; he had restrained the disturbing zeal of his own friends and followers, such as Amsdorf or Osiander at Nuremberg.
We must not omit finally to mention, as an important event of these years and a testimony to Luther’s disposition and sentiments, the friendly relations now formed between himself and the so-called Bohemian and Moravian Brethren. We have already had occasion to notice, after the Leipzig disputation in 1519, and again, in particular, after Luther’s return from the Wartburg, an approach, which promised much but was only transitory, between Luther and the large and powerful brotherhood of the Bohemian Utraquists, who, as admirers of Huss and advocates for giving the cup to the laity, had freed themselves from the dominion of Rome. Quietly and modestly, but with a far more penetrating endeavour to restore the purity of Christian life, the small communities of the Moravian Brethren had multiplied by the side of the Hussites, and had patiently endured oppression and persecution. Luther afterwards declared of them, how he had found to his astonishment–a thing unheard of under the Papacy–that, discarding the doctrines of men, they meditated day and night, to the best of their ability, on the laws of God, and were well versed in the Scriptures. It was principally, however, as Luther himself seems to indicate, the commands of Scripture, in the strict and faithful fulfilment of which they sought for true Christianity–with special reference to the commands of Jesus, as expressed by Him in particular in the Sermon on the Mount, and to those precepts which they found in their patterns, the oldest Apostolic communities–that engrossed their attention. With strict discipline, in conformity with these commands, they sought to order and sanctify their congregational life. But of Luther’s doctrine of salvation, announced by him mainly on the testimony of St. Paul, or of the doctrine of justification by faith alone, they had as yet no knowledge. They taught of the righteousness to which Christians should attain, as did Augustine and the pious, practical theologians of the middle ages. Hence they were wanting also in freedom in their conception of moral life, and of those worldly duties and blessings to which, according to Luther, the Christian spirit rose by the power of faith. They shunned rather all worldly business in a manner that caused Luther to ascribe to them a certain monastic character. Their priests lived, like Catholics, in celibacy. Another peculiarity of their teaching was, that in striving after a more spiritual conception of life, and under the influence of the writings of the great Englishman Wicliffe, which were largely disseminated among them, they repudiated the Catholic doctrine of Transubstantiation, nor would even allow such a Presence of Christ’s Body as was insisted on by Luther. They maintained simply a sacramental, spiritual, effectual presence of Christ, and distinguished from it a substantial Presence, which His Body, they declared, had in heaven alone.
With these, too, as with the Utraquists, Luther became more closely acquainted soon after his return from the Wartburg. The evangelical preacher, Paul Speratus, who was then temporarily working in Moravia, wrote to him about these zealous friends of the gospel, among whom, however, he found much that was objectionable, especially their doctrine of the Sacrament. They themselves sent Luther messages, letters, and writings. Luther, who, in addition to the Catholic theory, had also to combat doubts as to the Real Presence of Christ’s Body at the Sacrament, turned in 1523, in a treatise ‘On the Adoration of the Sacrament, &c.,’ to oppose the declarations of the Brethren on this subject, and then proceeded to draw their attention to other points on which he was unable to agree with them, in the mildest form and with warm acknowledgments of their good qualities, such as, in particular, their strict requirements of Christian moral conduct, which in his own circle he could not possibly expect to see as yet fulfilled. They and Lucas, their elder, however, took umbrage at his remarks; Lucas published a reply, whereupon Luther quietly left them to go their own way.
While Butzer now was prosecuting with success his attempts at union, the Brethren renewed their overtures to Luther. They offered him fresh explanations about the doctrines in dispute, and these explanations he was content to treat as consistent with the truth which he himself maintained, though they differed even from his own actual statements, not only in form but in substance. For example, they distinguished between the Presence of Christ’s Body in the Sacrament and His existence in heaven, by describing only the latter as a Bodily existence. Practically, the theory of the Brethren, which, however, was by no means clearly defined, agreed most with that represented afterwards by Calvin. But Luther saw in it nothing more that was essential, such as would necessitate further controversy, or deter him from friendly intercourse with these pious-minded people. At their desire he published two of their statements of belief in 1533 and 1538 with prefaces from his own pen. In these prefaces he dwelt particularly on the striking differences, as regards Church usages and regulations, between their congregations and his own. But these differences, he said, ought in no way to prevent their fellowship; a difference of usages had always existed among Christian Churches, and with the difference of times and circumstances, was unavoidable. Nor did he withhold a certain sanction and approbation of the dignity with which the Brethren continued to invest the state of celibacy, while refusing, however, to give that sanction the force of a law.
Among the Brethren their gifted and energetic elder John Augusta laboured to promote an alliance with Luther and the German Reformation. He repeatedly appeared (and again in 1540) in person at Wittenberg.
Thus on all sides, wherever the Evangelical word prevailed, Luther saw the bonds of union being firmly tied.
CHAPTER IV.
OTHER LABOURS AND TRANSACTIONS, 1535-39.–ARCHBISHOP ALBERT AND SCHONITZ.–AGRICOLA.
Amidst these important and general affairs of the Church, bringing daily fresh labours and fresh anxieties for Luther–labours, however, which, in spite of his bodily sufferings, he undertook with his old accustomed energy–his strength, as in previous years we have observed with reference to his preaching, now no longer sufficed as before for the regular work of his calling. In his official duties at the university the Elector himself, anxiously concerned as he was for its progress, would have spared him as much as possible. For these he arranged, in 1536, an ample stipend. In his announcement of this step he solemnly declared: ‘The merciful God has plenteously and graciously vouchsafed to let His holy, redeeming Word, through the teaching of the reverend and most learned, our beloved and good Martin Luther, doctor of Holy Scripture, be made known to all men in these latter days of the world with true Christian understanding, for their comfort and salvation, for which we give Him praise and thanks for ever; and has made known also, in addition to other arts, the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, through the conspicuous and rare ability and industry of the learned Philip Melancthon, for the furtherance of the right and Christian comprehension of Holy Scripture.’ To each of these two men he now gave a hundred gulden as an addition to his salary as professor, which in Luther’s case had hitherto amounted to two hundred gulden. At the same time he released Luther from the obligation of lecturing, and, indeed, from all his other duties at the university.
Luther began, however, this year a new and important course of lectures–the exposition of the Book of Genesis, which, according to his wont, he illustrated with a copious and valuable commentary on the chief points of Christian doctrine and Christian life. They progressed, however, but slowly and with many interruptions; sometimes a whole year was occupied with only a few chapters. The work was not completed until 1545. They were the last lectures he delivered.
In the office of preacher, which he continued to fill voluntarily and without emolument, he undertook again, after he had returned from Schmalkald, and had gained fresh strength and, at least, a temporary recovery from his recent illness, labours at once beyond and more arduous than his ordinary duties. He resumed, in short, the duties of Bugenhagen, who was given leave of absence till 1539 to visit Denmark, for the purpose of organising there, under the new king Christian III., the new Evangelical Church. He preached regularly on week-days, in addition to his Sunday sermons; continuing his discourses, as Bugenhagen had done, though with many interruptions, on the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. John. The chancellor Bruck wrote to the Elector from Wittenberg on August 27: ‘Doctor Martin preaches in the parish church thrice a week; and such mightily good sermons are they, that it seems to me, as everyone is saying, there has never been such powerful preaching here before. He points out in particular the errors of the Popedom, and multitudes come to hear him. He closes his sermons with a prayer against the Pope, his Cardinals and Bishops, and for our Emperor, that God may give him victory and deliver him from the Popedom.’
Among his literary labours he again took in hand in 1539 his German translation of the Bible–the most important work, in its way, of all his life–and persevered with intense and unremitting industry, in order to revise it thoroughly for a new edition, which was published at the end of two years. For this work he assembled around him a circle of learned colleagues, whose assistance he succeeded in obtaining and whom he regularly consulted. These were Melancthon, Jonas, Bugenhagen, Cruciger, Matthew Aurogallus, professor of Hebrew, and afterwards the chaplain Rorer, who attended to the corrections. From outside also some joined them, such as Ziegler, the Leipzig theologian, a man learned in Hebrew. Luther’s younger friend Mathesius, who had been Luther’s guest in 1540, relates of these meetings how ‘Doctor Luther came to them with his old Bible in Latin and his new one in German, and besides these he had always the Hebrew text with him. Philip (Melancthon) brought with him the Greek text, Dr. Kreuziger (Cruciger) besides the Hebrew, the Chaldaic Bible (the translation or paraphrase in use among the ancient Jews); the professors had with them their Rabbis (the Rabbinical writings of the Old Testament). Each one had previously armed himself with a knowledge of the text, and compared the Greek and Latin with the Jewish version. The president then propounded a text, and let the opinions go round;–speeches of wondrous truth and beauty are said to have been made at these sittings.’
In other respects Luther’s literary activity was chiefly devoted to the great questions remaining to be dealt with at a Council. In 1539, the year after his publication of the Schmalkaldic Articles, appeared a larger treatise from his pen ‘On Councils and Churches,’ one of the most exhaustive of his writings, and important to us as showing how firmly and confidently his idea of the Christian Church, as a community of the faithful, was maintained amidst all the practical difficulties which events prepared. He complains of the substitution of the blind, unmeaning word ‘Church’–and that even in the Catechism for the young–for the Greek word in the New Testament ‘Ecclesia,’ as the name of the community or assembly of Christian people. Much misery, he said, had crept in under that word Church, from its being understood as consisting of the Pope and the bishops, priests, and monks. The Christian Church was simply the mass of pious Christian people, who believed in Christ and were endowed with the Holy Spirit, Who daily sanctified them by the forgiveness of sins, and by absolving and purifying them therefrom.
Of Luther’s love for his German mother-language, and of the services he rendered it, so conspicuously shown by these his writings, and especially by his persevering industry in his translation of the Bible, we are further reminded by a request he made in a letter of March 1535, to his friend Wenzeslaus Link at Nuremberg. He suddenly in that letter breaks off from the Latin–which was still the customary language of correspondence between theologians–and continues in German, with the words, ‘I will speak German, my dear Herr Wenzel,’ and then begs his friend to make his servant collect for him all the German pictures, rhymes, books, and ballads that had recently been published at Nuremberg, as he wished to familiarise himself more with the genuine language of the people. Luther himself made a goodly collection of German proverbs. His original manuscript which contained them was inherited by a German family, but unfortunately it was bought about twenty years ago in England. There was published also at Wittenberg, in 1537, a small anonymous book on German names, written (unquestionably by Luther) in Latin, and therefore intended for students. It contains, it is true, many strange mistakes, but it is, nevertheless, a proof of the interest he took in such studies, and is interesting as a maiden effort in this field of national learning.
In the regular government and legal administration of his Saxon Church, Luther did not occupy any post of office. When in 1539 a Consistory was established at Wittenberg for the Electoral district, and afterwards, indeed, for the regulation of marriage and discipline, he did not become a member; he was certainly never called upon or qualified to take part in the exercise of such a jurisdiction. And yet this also was done with his concurrence, and in cases of difficulty he was resorted to for his advice. All Church questions of public interest continued, with this exception, to occupy his independent and influential discussion. And even the moral evils on the domain of civil, municipal and social life, to which Luther at the beginning of the Reformation appeared desirous of extending his preaching of reform, so far, at least, as that preaching represented a general call and exhortation, but which he afterwards seemed to discard altogether as something foreign to his mission, never wholly faded from his purview, or ceased to enlist his active interest. He wrote again in 1539 against usury, much as he had written at an earlier period, remarking to his friends that his book would prick the consciences of petty usurers, but that the big swindlers would only laugh at him in their sleeves. And in publishing his Schmalkaldic Articles he briefly refers again in his preface to the ‘countless matters of importance’ which a genuine Christian Council would have to mend in the temporal condition of mankind–such as the disunion of princes and states, the usury and avarice, which had spread like a deluge and had become the law, and the sins of unchastity, gluttony, gambling, vanity in dress, disobedience on the part of subjects, servants, and workmen of all trades; as also the removal of peasants, &c. Nor at the same time was he less prompt to interfere on behalf of individuals who were suffering from want and injustice, either by his humble intercession with their lords, or with the sharp sword of his denunciation.
It was Luther’s indignation and zeal on such an occasion that caused now his irremediable rupture with the Archbishop, Cardinal Albert, and induced him to attack that magnate as recklessly as he did; for the Cardinal had hitherto been always disposed to treat him with a certain respect; and Luther, on his side, had refrained at least from any open exhibition of hostility. The immediate cause of this rupture was a judicial murder, perpetrated against one John Schonitz (or Schanz) of Halle, on the river Saale. This man had for years had the charge, as the confidential servant of the Archbishop, of the public and even the private funds which his master required for his stately palaces, his luxury, and his sensual enjoyments, refined or coarse, legitimate or illegitimate; and had actually lent him large sums. The Estates of the Archbishopric complained of the demands made on them for money, and rightly suspected that the funds supplied were improperly and dishonestly misappropriated. Schonitz grew alarmed on account of the clandestine ‘practices’ which he was carrying on for his master. The latter, however, assured him of his protection. But when the Estates refused to grant any more subsidies until a proper account was laid before them, he basely sacrificed his servant in order to extricate himself from his embarrassment. For deceptions alleged to have been practised against himself, he had Schonitz arrested, and confined, in September 1534, in the Castle of Giebichenstein. In vain Schonitz demanded a public trial by impartial judges; in vain did the Imperial Court of Justice give judgment in his favour. A second judgment of the court was answered by Albert’s directing the prisoner, who was a citizen of Halle and sprung from an old local family, to be tried on June 21, 1535, at Giebichenstein, by a peasant tribunal hastily summoned from the surrounding villages, for the trial merely, as the rumour ran in Halle, of a horse-stealer. The unhappy prisoner was allowed no regular defence, and no counsel. An admission of guilt was extorted from him by the rack, and he was summarily sentenced to death. Time was only allowed him to say to the bystanders that he confessed himself a sinner in the sight of God, but that he had not deserved this fate. He was quickly strung up on the gallows, where his corpse remained hanging till the wind blew it down in February 1537. Albert took possession of his property. And this was done by the supreme prince of the Roman Church in Germany, who played the part of a modern Macenas with regard to art and science.
Whilst now the justices of the town of Halle were protesting against this treatment of their fellow-townsman to the Archbishop, who turned a deaf ear to their remonstrance, and Antony, the brother of the murdered man, exerted himself in vain to vindicate his honour and the rights of their family, Luther was drawn into the affair by the fact that one of his guests, Ludwig Rabe, was threatened with punishment by Albert, for expressions he let fall soon after the deed was committed. Luther thereupon wrote several times to Albert himself, and told him openly he was a murderer, and, for his squandering of Church property, deserved a gallows ten times higher than the Castle of Giebichenstein. He was restrained, however, from taking further steps by the Elector of Brandenburg and other of Albert’s influential relatives, who appealed to John Frederick on his behalf, whilst Albert sought to make a cheap compensation to the family of the murdered man, or at least pretended to do so.
When, however, a young Humanist poetaster at Wittenberg, named Lemnius–properly Lemchen–actually glorified the Archbishop in verse, or, as Luther put it, ‘made a saint of the devil,’ and at the same time vilified some men and women at Wittenberg, Luther read aloud from the pulpit, in 1538, a short indictment, couched in the plainest possible terms, against the shameless libeller, as also against the Archbishop whom he glorified; and this indictment soon appeared in print. And now he no longer refrained from taking up the cause of Schonitz in a pamphlet of some length. When the Duke of Prussia endeavoured once more in a friendly way to dissuade him from his purpose, for the honour of the house of Brandenburg, he replied, ‘Wicked sons have sprung from the noble race of David, and princes ought not to disgrace themselves by unprincely vices.’ In the pamphlet to his opening he declared that a stone was lying upon his heart which was called ‘Deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain’ (Prov. xxiv. 11). He denounced the contempt and denial of justice of which the Archbishop was guilty, and at the same time boldly exposed the real objects of those private expenses which the Archbishop, together with his servant, had incurred, and of which the latter was naturally unable to give an account–least of all, those that ministered to his carnal appetites, such as his establishment at Morizburg in Halle. He himself, says Luther, does not judge the Cardinal; he is simply the bearer of the sentence pronounced by the great Judge in heaven. To those who might perhaps have taken exception to his words he says, ‘I sit here at Wittenberg, and ask my most gracious lord the Elector for no further favour or protection than what is given to all alike.’ Albert found it more prudent to keep silent.
But what disturbed and grieved Luther more than anything else during this, the closing chapter of his life, was the bitter experience he had yet to make in his own religious community, nay, amidst his most intimate companions and friends.
The way of life–in other words, the way of saving faith–was now rediscovered and clearly brought to light; and, as Luther said, a truly moral life should be the consequence. And great pains were taken to stamp this new truth clearly and distinctly on doctrine, and to guard against new errors and perversions. Differences, however, now arose among those who had hitherto worked so loyally together for the establishment of the faith–a beginning of those doctrinal disputes which after Luther’s death became so disastrous to his Church. Again and again Luther bitterly complained of the moral wrongs and scandals which proved that the faith, however widely its confession had spread through Germany, was far from living in its purity and strength in the hearts of men, and bearing the expected fruit. Only his own conviction, his own faith was never shaken by this result. It must needs be, as Christ Himself had said, that offences must come; and, in the words of St. Paul (1 Cor. xi. 19), ‘there must be also heresies,’ and false teachers and deceivers must arise.
[Illustration: Fig. 44.–AGRICOLA. (From a miniature portrait by Cranach, in the University Album at Wittenberg, 1531.)]
We have seen above how cordially Luther welcomed Agricola back at Wittenberg after throwing up his appointment at Eisleben. He obtained for him from the Elector in 1537 an ample salary, to enable him to fill the long-coveted office of teacher at the university, and be a preacher as well. It soon became known that Agricola persisted in maintaining that doctrine of repentance in defence of which he had attacked Melancthon at the first visitation of churches in the Saxon Electorate. He had been accused of this at Eisleben, and Count Albert of Mansfeld, whose service he had quitted with rudeness and discontent, denounced him as a restless and dangerous fellow. And now at Wittenberg also Agricola had some sermons printed, and some theses circulated, embodying a statement of his peculiar doctrine. Luther considered it his duty to refute these, and he did so from the pulpit, but without naming their author.
The proclamation of God’s law, so Agricola now taught, was no necessary part of Christianity, as such, nor of the way of salvation prepared and revealed by Christ. The Gospel of the Son of God, our Saviour, this alone should be proclaimed, and operate in touching the hearts of men and exposing the true character of their sins as sinfulness against the Son of God. In this way he sought to give full effect to the fundamental evangelical doctrine, that the grace of God alone had power to save through the joyful message of Christ. The personal vanity, however, which was the chief weakness of this gifted, intellectual, and fairly eloquent man, and which was now increased by the dissatisfaction it had caused at Eisleben, displayed itself further in the assertion of his eccentricities of dogma. Moreover, he was far from clear in his first principles, and while maintaining his tenets he was unwilling to stake too much on his own account, and yet refused actually to abandon them.
He came at first to an understanding with Luther by offering an explanation which the latter deemed satisfactory, but he then proceeded to revert to his peculiar tenets in a new publication. Luther now launched a sharp reply against these antinomian theses, as well as against others, which went much further, and whose origin is unknown. He found wanting in Agricola that earnest moral appreciation of the law, and of the moral demands made of us by God, whereby the heart of the sinner, as he himself had experienced, must first be bruised and broken, and thus opened to receive the word of grace, before that word can truly renew, revive, and sanctify it. But together with Agricola’s tenets he then placed the others, betraying an equally frivolous estimate of the real nature of those demands and of the duties they entailed, as evidence of one tendency and one character, since Agricola, indeed, taught like them, that the good willed by God in His Commandments was fulfilled in Christians by the simple fact of their belief in Christ, and as the fruit of His word of grace. Thus it came about that this tendency which Luther found represented in Agricola, stood out before him in all its compass and with its extremest and most alarming consequences, and called forth the boldest exercise of his zeal. It grieved him sorely, nevertheless, to have to enter into this dispute with his old friend. ‘God knows,’ he said, ‘what trials this business has prepared for me; I shall have died of sheer anxiety before I have brought my theses against him (Agricola) to the light.’
At the instance, however, of the Elector, who valued Agricola, another reconciliation was brought about. Agricola humbled himself; he even authorised his great opponent to draw up a retractation in his name, and Luther did this in a manner very damaging to Agricola, in a letter to his former colleague and opponent at Eisleben, Caspar Guttel. Agricola thereupon received a place in the newly-formed consistory. But even now he could not refrain from fresh utterances which betrayed his old opinions. Luther’s confidence in him was thus destroyed for ever: he spoke with indignation, pain, and scorn of ‘Grikel (Agricola), the false man.’ The latter at length complained to the Elector against Luther for having unjustly aspersed him. The Elector testified to him his displeasure; Luther gave a sharp answer to the charge, and his prince made further inquiries into the matter of complaint. Agricola finally snatched at a means of escape offered by his summons to Berlin, whither he had been called as a preacher of distinction by the Elector Joachim II., who was a convert to the Reformation. In August 1540 he left Wittenberg. He sent thither from Berlin another and fully satisfactory retractation in order to retain his official appointment. But Luther’s friendship with him was broken for ever.
In another quarter also Melancthon had been charged with deviating in certain statements from the path of right doctrine.
We know already how his anxiety about the dangers caused by the separation from the great Catholic Church seemed to tempt him to indulge in questionable concessions, and how it was Luther himself, with a disposition so different to Melancthon’s, who nevertheless held firmly to his trust in his friend and fellow-labourer, particularly during the Diet of Augsburg. And, indeed, subsequent events brought this tendency to concession more fully into notice.
Certain peculiarities now asserted themselves in Melancthon’s independent opinions, with regard both to theology and practical life, which distinguished his mode of teaching from that of Luther. He who, again and again, in the Augsburg Confession and the Apology, as also in the system of evangelical theology which in his ‘Loci Communes’ he was the first to elaborate, had expounded with full and active conviction the fundamental evangelical truth of a justifying and saving Faith, was anxious also–more so, even, than many strict confessors of that doctrine–to have the whole field of moral improvement and the fruits of morality which were necessary to preserve that faith, estimated at their proper value. And further, with respect to God’s will and the operation of His grace, whereby alone the sinner could obtain inward conversion and faith, he wished to make this depend entirely on man’s own will and choice, so that the blame might not appear to lie with God if the call to salvation remained fruitless, and a temptation thereby be offered to many to indulge in carelessness or despondency. In addition to this, he differed unmistakably from Luther in his doctrine of the Sacrament. For, though it was he who at Augsburg in 1530 had flatly rejected the Zwinglians, still his historical researches impressed him with the belief, that, in reality, as indeed the Zwinglians maintained, not Augustine himself, among the ancients, had taught the Real Bodily Presence after the manner of Luther, or even of Roman Catholicism; and his own theological opinion induced him at least to satisfy himself with more or less obscure propositions about the communion of the Saviour Who died for us with the guests at His table, without any fixed or clear declarations about the substantiality of the Body. This appears, for instance, in his ‘Loci Communes,’ although in the formula of the Wittenberg Concord of 1536 he went farther, together with Luther.
On the first point above-mentioned, a priest named Cordatus, a strict adherent of Luther, had raised a protest against him in 1536. But the opponent whom Melancthon chiefly feared in this respect was the theologian Amsdorf, who was not only an old familiar friend of Luther, but the especial guardian, both then and still more after Luther’s death, of Lutheran orthodoxy. But Luther himself was anxious to avoid, even in this matter, any rupture or discord with Melancthon. He took great pains to reconcile the difference, and knew also how to keep silence, though without deviating from his own strict standpoint, or being able to overlook the peculiarity of his friend’s teaching, conspicuously apparent as it was in the new edition of his book.
We are reminded by this, moreover, how Luther, during his illness at Schmalkald in 1537, made no secret of his fear of a division breaking out at Wittenberg after his death.
CHAPTER V.
LUTHER AND THE PROGRESS AND INTERNAL TROUBLES OF PROTESTANTISM. 1538–1541.
In the great affairs of the Church, amid the threats of his enemies and in all his dealings with them, Luther continued from day to day to trust quietly in God, as the Guider of events, Who suffers none to forestall His designs, and puts to shame and rebuke the inventions of man. His hope of external peace had hitherto been fulfilled beyond all expectation. And it had been permitted him to see the Reformation gain strength and make further progress in the German Empire. Indeed, it seemed possible that a union might be effected with those Catholics who had been impressed with the evangelical doctrine of salvation. These were results accomplished by the inward power of God’s Word, as hitherto preached to the people, under a Divine and marvellously favourable dispensation of outer relations and events–fruits as unexpected as they were gratifying to Luther. Great plans or projects of his own, however, were still far from his thoughts; nor even did the details of this historical development demand such activity on his part as he had shown in the earlier years of the movement. And yet there was no lack of discord, difficulty, and trouble within the pale of the new Church and amongst its members; prospects of further, and possibly much more serious dangers to be encountered; thoughts of sadness and disquietude to vex the soul of the Reformer, now aged, suffering, and weary. The goal of his hopes had ever been, and still remained, not indeed a victory to be gradually achieved for his cause, perhaps even in his own lifetime, by the course of ecclesiastical and political changes and events, but the end which the Lord Himself, according to His promises, would make of the whole wicked world, and the Hereafter whither he was ever waiting to be summoned.
Since the Schmalkaldic allies had rejected the Emperor with his invitation to a Council, the Romish zealots might well hope that Charles at length would prepare to use force against them. He was not yet able to bring his quarrel with King Francis to a final termination; but, nevertheless, he concluded a truce with him in 1538 for ten years, while at the same time his vice-chancellor Held contrived to effect a union of Roman Catholic princes in Germany in opposition to the Schmalkaldic League. This union was joined, in addition to Austria, Bavaria, and George of Saxony, by Duke Henry of Brunswick, the bitter enemy of the Landgrave Philip. Already in the spring of that year people at Wittenberg talked of operations on a large scale ostensibly directed against the Turks, but in reality against the Protestants. Or at least it was feared that the imperial army, in the event of its defeating the Turks, might, as Luther expressed it, turn their spears against the Evangelical party. In this respect Luther had no fears; he did not believe in a victory over the Turks, and, even in that case, his opinion was that the imperial troops would no more submit to be made the instruments of such a policy than they had done some years before, after their victory at Vienna. Most earnestly he exhorted the Elector, for his part at least, to do his duty again in the war against the Turks, for the sake of his Fatherland and the poor oppressed people. On the other hand, the right of the Protestant States to resist the Emperor, if it came to a war of religion, was one which he now asserted without scruple or hesitation. The Emperor, he said, in such a war would not be Emperor at all, but merely a soldier of the Pope. He appealed to the fact that once among the people of Israel pious and godly men had risen up against their sovereign; and the German princes had additional rights over their Emperor, by virtue of their constitution. Finally, he reasoned from the law of nature itself, that a father was bound to protect his wife and children from open murder; and he likened the Emperor, who usurped a power notoriously illegal, to a murderer. For the rest, he declared, in a publication exhorting the Evangelical clergy to pray for peace, that as to whether the Papists chose to carry out their designs or not he was perfectly indifferent, in case God did not will to work a miracle. His only fear was lest a war might arise, if they did so, which would never end, and would be the total ruin of Germany.
But the Emperor was less zealous and more cautious than his vice-chancellor. He sent another representative to Germany, with instructions to prevent an outbreak of hostilities. This envoy, in the course of some negotiations conducted at Frankfort in April 1539, agreed to an understanding by which the ecclesiastical law-suits hitherto instituted in the Imperial Chamber against the Protestants were suspended, and a number of chosen theologians of piety and laymen were to ‘arrange a praiseworthy union of Christians’ at an assembly of the German Estates.
On April 17, in the midst of these transactions, Duke George of Saxony died after a short illness. His country passed to his brother Henry, who in his own smaller territory of Freiburg had for some years, much to the grief of George, established the Evangelical form of worship, and given shelter to the heretics banished by his brother. The latter had left no male issue to succeed him. He had lost two sons in boyhood; and his son John, who held the same opinions as himself, had died two years ago, when quite a young man, without leaving any children. His last remaining son Frederick was of weak intellect, but had nevertheless been married after his brother’s death, and died a few weeks later. He was soon followed by his unhappy father and sovereign. Luther said of him that he had gone to everlasting fire, though he would have wished him life and conversion. To us his end appears the more tragic because we cannot but acknowledge the honest zeal with which, from his own point of view, he endeavoured to serve God, and would willingly even have effected a reform in the Church; whilst, in spite of all his severity against heretics, he never suffered himself to be hurried into deeds of coarse violence and cruelty. There are extant prayers and religious discourses, composed and written down by himself. He read the Bible, and expressed a wish, when Luther’s translation appeared, that ‘the monk would put the whole Bible into German, and then go about his business.’
Thus the old and constantly revived quarrel between Luther and the Duke came at length to an end. The Reformation was immediately introduced throughout the duchy by the appointment of Evangelical clergy, by changes in public worship, and by a visitation of churches after the example of the one in Electoral Saxony. When Henry was solemnly acknowledged sovereign at Leipzig, he invited Luther and Jonas to be present. On the afternoon of Whitsunday, May 24, 1539, Luther preached a sermon in the court chapel of that Castle of Pleissenburg, where he had once disputed before George with Eck, and on the following afternoon he preached in one of the churches of the town, not venturing to do so in the morning on account of his weak state of health. He now proclaimed aloud, in his sermon on the Gospel for Whitsunday, that the Church of Christ was not there, where men were madly crying ‘Church! Church!’ without the Word of God, nor was it with the Pope, the cardinals, and the bishops; but there, and there only, where Christ was loved and His Word was kept, and where accordingly He dwelt in the souls of men. He refrained from any special reference to the state of things hitherto existing at Leipzig and in the duchy, or to the change brought about by God. But we call to mind the words he had spoken in 1532, ‘Who knows what God will do before ten years are over?’ Very soon, indeed, the magnates of the Saxon court and the nobility, though accepting the reformed faith of their new sovereign, gave occasion to Luther for bitter complaints of their rapacity, their indifference to religion, and their improper and tyrannical usurpations on the territory of the Church.
In addition to the Saxon duchy, the Electorate of Brandenburg was also about to go over to Protestantism. The Elector Joachim I. adhered so strictly to the ancient Church, that his wife Elizabeth, who was evangelically inclined, had fled to Saxony, where she became an intimate friend of Luther’s household. But on his death in 1535, his younger son John, together with his territory, the ‘Neumark,’ joined at once the Schmalkaldic allies. And now, after longer consideration, his elder brother also, Joachim II.–a man of quieter disposition and more attached to ancient ways–took the decisive step, after an agreement with his Estates and the territorial bishop, Jagow. On November 1, 1539, he received from the latter publicly the Sacrament in both kinds.
Under these circumstances the Emperor resolved to give effect to the essential part of the Frankfort agreement. He summoned a meeting at Spire ‘for the purpose of so arranging matters that the wearisome dissension in religion might be reconciled in a Christian manner.’ In consequence of a pestilence which appeared at Spire, the assembly was removed to Hagenau. Here it was actually held in June 1540.
Meanwhile, the most vigorous champion of Protestantism, the Landgrave Philip, took a step which was calculated to damage the position of the Evangelical Church and to embarrass its adherents more than anything which their enemies could possibly attempt. Philip, in his youth (1523) had taken to wife a daughter of Duke George of Saxony, but soon repented of his ill-considered resolve, on the ground that she was of an unamiable disposition and was afflicted with bodily infirmities, and accordingly proceeded to look elsewhere for a mistress, after the fashion only too common at that time with emperors and princes, but scarcely commented upon in their case. The earnest remonstrances made to him on religious grounds against this step had the effect of causing him certain prickings of conscience; he had not ventured on that account, as he now complained, to present himself at the Lord’s table, with one single exception, since the Peasants’ War. But his conscience was not strong enough to make him give up his evil ways. At last the Bible, which he read industriously, seemed to him to provide a means of outlet from his difficulty. He sheltered himself, as the Anabaptist fanatics had done before him, behind the Old Testament precedent of Abraham and other godly men, to whom it had been permitted to have more than one wife, and pleaded, moreover, that the New Testament contained no prohibition of polygamy. With all the energy and stubbornness of his nature, he fastened on these notions and clung to them, when, at the house of his sister, the Duchess Elizabeth, at Rochlitz, he chanced to meet and fall in love with a lady named Margaret von der Saal. She refused to be his except by marriage. Her mother even demanded of him that Luther, Butzer, and Melancthon, or at least two of them, together with an envoy of the Elector and the Duke of Saxony, should be present as witnesses at the marriage. Philip himself found the consent of these divines and of his most distinguished ally, John Frederick, indispensable. He succeeded first of all in gaining over the versatile Butzer, and sent him in December 1539, on this errand, to Wittenberg.
He appealed to the strait that he was in, no longer able with a good conscience to go to war or to punish crime, and also to the testimony of Scripture, adding, very truly, that the Emperor and the world were quite willing to permit both him and anyone else to live in open immorality. Thus, he said, they were forbidding what God allowed, and winking at what He prohibited. In other respects, indeed, a double marriage was not a thing unheard of even by the Christendom of those days. It was said, for instance, of the Christian Emperor of Rome, Valentinian II., to whose case Philip himself appealed, that he had been permitted to contract a marriage of that kind. To the Pope was ascribed the power to grant the necessary dispensation.
On December 10 Butzer brought back to the Landgrave from Wittenberg an opinion of Luther and Melancthon. They told him in decided terms that it was in accordance with creation itself, and recognised as such by Jesus, ‘that a man was not to have more than one wife;’ and they, the preachers of God’s Word, were commanded to regulate marriage and all human things ‘in accordance with their original and Divine institution, and to adhere thereto as closely as possible, while at the same time avoiding to their utmost all cause of pain or annoyance.’ They urgently exhorted him not to regard incontinence, as did the world, in the light of a trifling offence, and represented to him plainly that if he refused to resist his evil inclinations, he would not mend matters by taking a second wife. But with all this exhortation and warning, they confessed themselves bound to admit that ‘what was allowed in respect of marriage by the law of Moses was not actually forbidden in the gospel;’ thereby maintaining, in point of fact, that an original ordinance in the Church must be adhered to as the rule, but nevertheless admitting the possibility of a dispensation under very strong and exceptional circumstances. They did not say that such a dispensation was applicable to the case of Philip; they only wished him earnestly to reconsider the matter with his own conscience. In the event, however, of his keeping to his resolve, they would not refuse him the benefit of a dispensation, and only required that the matter should be kept private, on account of the scandal and possible abuse it would occasion if generally known.
Luther himself abandoned afterwards the conclusions he drew from the Old Testament in this respect, and, as a consequence, rejected the admissibility of a double marriage for Christians. Friends of the evangelical and Lutheran belief can only lament the decision he pronounced in this matter. With that belief itself it has nothing whatever to do. Instead of drawing his conclusions from the moral aspect of marriage, as amply attested by the spirit of the New Testament, though not indeed exactly expressed, Luther on this occasion clung to the letter, and failed, of course, to find any written declaration on the point. At the same time he mistook, in common with all the theologians of his time, the difference, in point of matured morality and knowledge, between the New Covenant and the standpoint of the Old, which was that also of his best adherents.
The simple Christian common sense of the Elector John Frederick, and his practical view of the position, preserved him this time from the error into which the theologians had fallen. He lamented that they should have given an answer, and would have nothing to do with the business.
Philip, however, rejoiced at the decision, and obtained, moreover, his wife’s consent to take a second one.
In the following March the Protestants held another conference at Schmalkald, with a view of coming to an agreement as to their conduct in the attempts at unity in the Church. The Elector summoned Melancthon thither, but excused Luther, at his own request. Philip then invited the former, under some pretext or other, to the neighbouring Castle of Rothenburg on the Fulda. Arrived there, he was obliged to be a witness with Butzer, on March 4, 1540, to the marriage of the Landgrave with Margaret. Philip thanked Luther some weeks after for the ‘remedy’ allowed him, without which he should have become ‘quite desperate.’ He had kept the name of his second wife a secret from the Wittenbergers; he now told Luther that she was a virtuous maiden, a relative of Luther’s own wife, and that he rejoiced to have honourably become his kinsman.
Very soon, however, the news of this unheard of event got wind. The Evangelicals were not less scandalised than their enemies, who in other respects were glad to see the mischief. The first to demand an explanation was the Ducal Court of Saxony, the Duke being so nearly related to Philip’s first wife, and on the eve of a quarrel with Philip about a claim of inheritance. The Landgrave’s whole position was in jeopardy; for bigamy, by the law of the Empire, was a serious offence. Luther heard now with indignation that the ‘necessity’ to which Philip had thought himself justified in yielding had been exaggerated. The latter, on the other hand, finding concealment no longer possible, wished to announce his marriage publicly, and defend it. He went so far as to imagine that even if the allies should renounce him he might still procure the favour and consideration of the Emperor. Unpleasant and very painful discussions arose between him, John Frederick, and Duke Henry of Saxony.
Meanwhile, the day was now approaching for the conference at Hagenau. Melancthon was sent there too by the Elector. But on reaching Weimar on June 13, where the prince was then staying, he suddenly fell ill, and it seemed as if his end was close at hand. He was oppressed with trouble and anxiety about the wrongdoing of the Landgrave. The Elector himself wrote reproachfully to Philip, saying that ‘Philip Melancthon was disturbed with miserable thoughts about him,’ and he now lay between life and death. Luther was sent for by the Elector from Wittenberg. He found the sick man lying in a state of unconsciousness and seemingly quite dead to the world. Shocked at the sight, he exclaimed, ‘God help us! how has Satan marred this vessel of Thy grace!’ Then the faithful, manly friend fell to praying God for his precious companion, casting, as he said, all his heart’s request before Him, and reminding Him of all the promises contained in His own Word. He exhorted and bade Melancthon to be of good courage, for that God willed not the death of a sinner, and he would yet live to serve Him. He assured him he would rather now depart himself. On Melancthon’s gradually showing more signs of life, he had some food prepared for him, and on his refusing it said, ‘You really must eat, or I will excommunicate you.’ By degrees the patient revived in body and soul. Luther was able to inform another friend, ‘We found him dead, and by an evident miracle he lives.’
Luther, after this, was taken to Eisenach by his prince, to advise him on the news which he expected to receive there from Hagenau. At Eisenach he and the chancellor Bruck had an earnest consultation with envoys from Hesse. Against these, both Luther and Bruck insisted that the proceedings which had taken place between Philip and the theologians in respect to his marriage should be kept as secret as a confession, and that Philip must be content to have his second marriage regarded, in the eyes of the world and according to the law, as concubinage. He must make up his mind, therefore, to parry, as best he could, the questions which were being noised abroad about him, with vague statements or equivocations. He would then incur no further personal danger. But any attempt to brazen it out would inevitably land him in confusion and embarrassment, and only increase and continue the damage done to the Evangelical cause by this affair.
The Diet at Hagenau made no further demand on Luther’s activity. It was there resolved to take in hand again, at another meeting to be held at Worms late in the autumn, and after further preparation, the religious and ecclesiastical questions at issue. Peaceably-disposed and competent men were to be appointed on both sides for this purpose. Thus Luther was now at liberty to leave Eisenach towards the end of July, and return home, dissatisfied, as he wrote to his wife, with the Diet at Hagenau, where labour and expense had been wasted, but happy in the thought that Melancthon had been restored from death to life.
At Worms the proceedings, in which Melancthon and Eck took a prominent part, were further adjourned to a Diet which the Emperor purposed to hold in person at Ratisbon early in 1541. Here, on April 27, a debate was opened on religion.
Luther entertained very slender expectations from all these conferences, considering the long-ascertained opinions of his opponents. He pointed to the innocent blood which had long stained the hands of the Emperor Charles and King Ferdinand. Still, during the Diet at Worms, the thought arose in his mind that, if only the Emperor were rightly disposed, a German Council might actually result from that assembly. He saw his enemies busy with their secret schemes of mischief, and feared lest many of his comrades in the faith, such as the Landgrave Philip, might treat too lightly the matter, which was no mere comedy among men, but a tragedy in which God and Satan were the actors. He rejoiced again, however, that the falsehood and cunning of his enemies must be brought to nought by their own folly, and that God Himself would consummate the great catastrophe of the drama. And in regard to the fear we have just mentioned, he declared that he, at any rate, would not suffer himself to be dragged into anything against his own conviction. ‘Rather,’ said he, ‘would I take the matter again on my own shoulders, and stand alone, as at the beginning. We know that it is the cause of God, and He will carry it through to the end; whoever will not go with it, must remain behind.’
Between the Diets of Worms and Ratisbon he entered in 1541, with all his old severity, and with a violence even beyond his wont, into a bitter correspondence which had just then begun between Duke Henry of Brunswick–Wolfenbuttel, a zealous Catholic, and morally of ill repute with friend and foe, on the one side, and John Frederick and the Landgrave Philip, the heads of the Schmalkaldic League, on the other. He published against Duke Henry a pamphlet ‘Against Hans Worst.’ The Duke had taunted him with having allowed himself to call his own sovereign Hans Wurst. Luther assured him, in reply, that he had never given this name to a single man, whether friend or foe; but now applied it to the Duke, because he found it meant a stupid blockhead who wished to be thought clever and all the time spoke and acted like a simpleton. But he was not content with calling him a blockhead; he represented him as a profligate man, who, while libelling the princes and pretending to be the champion of God’s ordinances, himself practised open adultery, committed acts of violence and insolent tyranny, and incited men to incendiarism in his opponents’ territories. He would let the Duke scream himself hoarse or dead with his calumnies against John Frederick and the Evangelicals, and simply answer him by saying, ‘Devil, thou liest! Hans Worst, how thou liest! O, Henry Wolfenbuttel, what a shameless liar thou art! Thou spittest forth much, and namest nothing; thou libellest, and provest nothing.’ At the same time this pamphlet of Luther was a literary vindication of the Reformation and Protestantism; here, said he, and not in the popedom, was the true, ancient, and original Christian Church. Luther himself, on reading over his pamphlet after it was printed, thought its tone against Henry was too mild; a headache, he said, must have suppressed his indignation.
Just at this time he had to encounter a fresh and violent attack of illness. He described it, in a letter to Melancthon, who was then at Ratisbon, as a ‘cold in the head;’ it was accompanied not only with alarming giddiness, from which he was now a frequent sufferer, but also with deafness and intolerable pains, forcing tears from his