S H A R E W A R E
The Story of Martin Luther
This is a modern revision of that classic work
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HISTORY
of
THE REFORMATION
of
THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY
BY J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D.D.,
President of the Theological School of Geneva, and
Vice President of the Societe Evangelique.
FROM THE AUGUST 1835 EDITION
VOL. I. BK. II. CHAPS. I-XI.
REVISED JUNE 1989.
REVISION COPYRIGHT JUNE 1989 BY ANGELA C. PITTS.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
CONTENTS
----
BOOK 2
THE YOUTH, CONVERSION, AND EARLY LABORS OF LUTHER.
1483-1517.
CHAPTER 1
Luther's Descent--His Parents--His Birth--His Poverty--Paternal
Home--Severity--First Knowledge--School of Magdeburg--Hardships--
Eisenach--The Shunamite--House of Cotta--Arts--Recollections of
these Times--His Studies--Trebonius--The University.
CHAPTER 2
The University--Scholastic Divinity and the Classics--Luther's
Piety--Discovery of the Bible--Illness--Luther admitted M.A.--
Conscience--Death of Alexis--The Thunder Storm--Providence--
Farewell--Luther enters a Convent.
CHAPTER 3
His Father's Anger--Pardon--Humiliation--The Sack and the Cell--
Endurance--Luther's Studies--St. Augustine--Peter d'Ailly--Occam-
-Gerson--The Chained Bible--Lyra--Hebrew and Greek--Daily
Prayers--Asceticism--Mental Struggles--Luther during Mass--
Useless Observances--Luther in a Fainting-fit.
CHAPTER 4
Pious Monks--Staupitz--His Piety--Visitation--Conversations--The
Grace of Christ--Repentance--Power of Sin--Sweetness of
Repentance--Election--Providence--The Bible--The aged Monk--
Forgiveness of Sins--Ordination--The Dinner--Festival of Corpus
Christi--Luther made Professor at Wittemberg.
CHAPTER 5
The University of Wittemberg--First Instructions--Biblical
Lectures--Sensation--Luther Preaches at Wittemberg--The Old
Chapel--Impression produced by his Sermons.
CHAPTER 6
Journey to Rome--Convent on the Po--Sickness at Bologna--
Recollections of Rome--Julius II--Superstitious Devotion--
Profanity of the Clergy--Conversations--Roman Scandals--Biblical
Studies--Pilate's Staircase--Effects on Luther's Faith and on the
Reformation--Gate of Paradise--Luther's Confession.
CHAPTER 7
Luther returns to Wittemberg--Made Doctor of Divinity--Carlstadt-
-Luther's Oath--Principle of the Reformation--Luther's Courage--
Early Views of Reformation--The Schoolmen--Spalatin--Reuchlin's
Quarrel with the Monks.
CHAPTER 8
Faith--Popular Declamations--Academic Teaching--Luther's Purity
of Life--German Theology or Mysticism--The Monk Spenlein--
Justification by Faith--Luther on Erasmus--Faith and Works--
Erasmus--Necessity of Works--Luther's Charity.
CHAPTER 9
Luther's First Theses--The Old Adam and Grace--Visitaton of the
Convents--Luther at Dresden and Erfurth--Tornator--Peace and the
Cross--Results of Luther's Journey--His Labors--The Plague.
CHAPTER 10
The Relics--Relations of Luther with the Elector--Advice to the
Chaplain--Duke George--His Character--Luther's Sermon before the
Court--Dinner at Court--Evening with Emser.
CHAPTER 11
Return to Wittemberg--Theses--Free Will--Nature of Man--
Rationalism--Proposal to the University at Erfurth--Eck--Urban
Regius--Luther's Modesty--Effect of the Theses.
CHAPTER ONE
All was ready. God who prepares his work through ages,
accomplishes it by the weakest instruments, when His time is
come. To effect great results by the smallest means--such is the
law of God. This law, which prevails everywhere in nature, is
found also in history. God selected the reformers of the Church
from the same class whence he had taken the apostles. He chose
them from among that lower rank, which, although not the meanest,
does not reach the level of the middle classes. Everything was
thus intended to manifest to the world that the work was not of
man but of God. The reformer Zuingle emerged from an Alpine
shepherd's hut; Melancthon, the theologian of the Reformation,
from an armorer's shop; and Luther from the cottage of a poor
miner.
The first period in man's life--that in which he is formed
and molded under the hand of God--is always important. It is
eminently so in the career of Luther. The whole of the
Reformation is included in it. The different phases of this work
succeeded one another in the soul of him who was to be the
instrument for effecting it, before they were accomplished in the
world. The knowledge of the change that took place in Luther's
heart can alone furnish the key to the reformation of the Church.
It is only by studying the particulars that we can understand the
general work. Those who neglect the former will be ignorant of
the latter except in its outward appearance. They may acquire a
knowledge of certain events and certain results, but they will
never comprehend the intrinsic nature of that revival, because
the principle of life, that was its very soul, remains unknown to
them. Let us therefore study the Reformation in Luther himself,
before we proceed to the events that changed the face of
Christendom.
In the village of Mora, near the Thuringian forests, and not
far from the spot where Boniface, the apostle of Germany, began
to proclaim the Gospel, had dwelt, doubtless for many centuries,
an ancient and numerous family of the name of Luther. As was
customary with the Thuringian peasants, the eldest son always
inherited the dwelling and the paternal fields, while the other
children departed elsewhere in quest of a livelihood. One of
these, by name John Luther, married Margaret Lindemann, the
daughter of an inhabitant of Neustadt in the see of Wurzburg.
The married pair quitted the plains of Eisenach, and went to
settle in the little town of Eisleben in Saxony, to earn their
bread by the sweat of their brows.
Seckendorf relates, on the testimony of Rebhan,
superintendent at Eisenach in 1601, that Luther's mother,
thinking her time still distant, had gone to the fair of
Eisleben, and that contrary to her expectation she there gave
birth to a son. Notwithstanding the credit that is due to
Seckendorf, this account does not appear to be correct: in fact,
none of the oldest of Luther's historians mention it; and
besides, it is about twenty-four leagues from Mora to Eisleben,
and in the condition of Luther's mother at that time, people do
not readily make up their minds to travel such a distance to see
a fair; and, lastly, the evidence of Luther himself appears in
direct opposition to this assertion.
John Luther was an upright man, diligent in business, frank,
and carrying the firmness of his character even to obstinacy.
With a more cultivated mind than that of most men of his class,
he used to read much. Books were then rare; but John omitted no
opportunity of procuring them. They formed his relaxation in the
intervals of repose, snatched from his severe and constant
labors. Margaret possessed all the virtues that can adorn a good
and pious woman. Her modesty, her fear of God, and her prayerful
spirit, were particularly remarked. She was looked upon by the
matrons of the neighborhood as a model whom they should strive to
imitate.
It is not precisely known how long the married pair had been
living at Eisleben, when, on the 10th of November, one hour
before midnight, Margaret gave birth to a son. Melancthon often
questioned his friend's mother as to the period of his birth. "I
well remember the day and the hour," replied she, "but I am not
certain about the year." But Luther's brother James, an honest
and upright man, has recorded, that in the opinion of the whole
family the future reformer was born on St. Martin's eve, 10th
November, 1483. And Luther himself wrote on a Hebrew Psalter
which is still in existence: "I was born in the year 1483." The
first thought of his pious parents was to dedicate to God,
according to the faith they professed, the child that he had
given them. On the morrow, which happened to be Tuesday, the
father carried his son to St. Peter's church, where he received
the rite of Infant Baptism and was called Martin in commemoration
of the day.
The child was not six months old, when his parents quitted
Eisleben to repair to Mansfeldt, which is only five leagues
distant. The mines of that neighborhood were then very
celebrated. John Luther, who was a hard-working man, feeling
that perhaps he would be called upon to bring up a numerous
family, hoped to gain a better livelihood for himself and his
children in that town. It was here that the understanding and
strength of young Luther received their first development; here
his activity began to display itself, and here his character was
declared in his words and in his actions. The plains of
Mansfeldt, the banks of the Wipper, were the theater of his first
sports with the children of the neighborhood.
The first period of their abode at Mansfeldt was full of
difficulty to the worthy John and his wife. At first they lived
in great poverty. "My parents," said the Reformer, "were very
poor. My father was a poor wood-cutter, and my mother has often
carried wood upon her back, that she might procure the means of
bringing up her children. They endured the severest labor for
our sakes." The example of the parents whom he revered, the
habits they inspired in him, early accustomed Luther to labor and
frugality. How many times, doubtless, he accompanied his mother
to the wood, there to gather up his little faggot!
There are promises of blessing on the labor of the
righteous, and John Luther experienced their realization. Having
attained somewhat easier circumstances, he established two
smelting furnaces at Mansfeldt. Beside these furnaces little
Martin grew in strength, and with the produce of this labor his
father afterwards provided for his studies. "It was from a
miner's family," says the good Mathesius, "that the spiritual
founder of Christendom was to go forth: an image of what God
would do in purifying the sons of Levi through him, and refining
them like gold in his furnaces." Respected by all for his
integrity, for his spotless life, and good sense, John Luther was
made councillor of Mansfeldt, capital of the earldom of that
name. Excessive misery might have crushed the child's spirit:
the competence of his paternal home expanded his heart and
elevated his character.
John took advantage of his new position to court the society
which he preferred. He had a great esteem for learned men, and
often invited to his table the clergy and schoolmasters of the
place. His house offered a picture of those social meeting of
his fellow-citizens, which did honor to Germany at the
commencement of the sixteenth century. It was a mirror in which
were reflected the numerous images that followed one another in
the agitated scene of the times. The child profited by them. No
doubt the sight of these men, to whom so much respect was shown
in his father's house, excited more than once in little Martin's
heart the ambitious desire of becoming himself one day a
schoolmaster or a learned man.
As soon as he was old enough to receive instructions, his
parents endeavoured to impart to him the knowledge of God, to
train him up in His fear, and to mold him to christian virtues.
They exerted all their care in this earliest domestic education.
The father would often kneel at the child's bedside, and
fervently pray aloud, begging the Lord that his son might
remember His name and one day contribute to the propagation of
the truth. The parent's prayer was most graciously listened to.
And yet his tender solicitude was not confined to this.
His father, anxious to see him acquire the elements of that
learning for which he himself had so much esteem, invoked God's
blessing upon him, and sent him to school. Martin was still very
young. His father, or Nicholas Emler, a young man of Mansfeldt,
often carried him in their arms to the house of George Emilius,
and afterwards returned to fetch him home. Emler in after-years
married one of Luther's sisters.
His parents' piety, their activity and austere virtue, gave
the boy a happy impulse, and formed in him an attentive and
serious disposition. The system of education which then
prevailed made use of chastisement and fear as the principal
incentives to study. Margaret, although sometimes approving to
too great severity of her husband, frequently opened her maternal
arms to her son to console him in his tears. Yet even she
herself overstept the limits of that wise precept: He that
loveth his son, chasteneth him betimes. Martin's impetuous
character gave frequent occasion for punishment and reprimand.
"My parents," said Luther in after-life, "treated my harshly, so
that I became very timid. My mother one day chastised me so
severely about a nut, that the blood came. They seriously
thought that they were doing right; but they could not
distinguish character, which however is very necessary in order
to know when, or where, or how chastisement should be inflicted.
It is necessary to punish; but the apple should be placed beside
the rod."
At school the poor child met with treatment no less severe.
His master flogged him fifteen times successively on one morning.
"We must," said Luther, when relating this circumstance--"we must
whip children, but we must at the same time love them." With
such an education Luther learnt early to despise the charms of a
merely sensual life. "What is to become great, should begin
small," justly observes one of his oldest biographers; "and if
children are brought up too delicately and with too much kindness
from their youth, they are injured for life."
Martin learnt something at school. He was taught the heads
of his Catechism, the Ten Commandments, the Apostles' Creed, the
Lord's Prayer, some hymns, some forms of prayer, and a Latin
grammar written in the fourth century by Donatus who was St.
Jeromes's master, and which, improved in the eleventh century by
one Remigius, a French monk, was long held in great repute in
every school. He further studied the calendar of Cisio Janus, a
very singular work, composed in the tenth or eleventh century:
in fine, he learnt all that could be taught in the Latin school
of Mansfeldt.
But the child's thoughts do not appear to have been there
directed to God. The only religious sentiment that could then be
discovered in him was fear. Every time he heard Jesus Christ
spoken of, he turned pale with affright; for the Saviour had only
been represented to him as an offended judge. This servile fear-
-so alien to true religion--may perhaps have prepared him for the
glad tidings of the Gospel, and for that joy which he afterwards
felt, when he learnt to know Him who is meek and lowly in heart.
John Luther wished to make his son a scholar. The day that
was everywhere beginning to dawn, had penetrated even into the
house of the Mansfeldt miner, and there awakened ambitious
thoughts. The remarkable disposition, the persevering
application of his son, made John conceive the liveliest
expectations. Accordingly, in 1497, when Martin had attained the
age of fourteen years, his father resolved to part with him, and
send him to the Franciscan school at Magdeburg. His mother was
forced to consent, and Martin prepared to quit the paternal roof.
Magdeburg was like a new world to Martin. In the midst of
numerous privations, for he scarcely had enough to live upon, he
inquired--he listened. Andrew Proles, provincial of the
Augustine order, was at that time warmly advocating the necessity
of reforming religion and the Church. It was not he, however,
who deposited in the young man's heart the first germ of the
ideas that were afterwards developed there.
This was a rude apprenticeship for Luther. Thrown upon the
world at the age of fourteen, without friends or protectors, he
trembled in the presence of his masters, and in the hours of
recreation he painfully begged his bread in company with children
poorer than himself. "I used to beg with my companions for a
little food," said he, "that we might have the means of providing
for our wants. One day, at the time the Church celebrates the
festival of Christ's nativity, we were wandering together through
the neighboring villages, going from house to house, and singing
in four parts the usual carols on the infant Jesus, born at
Bethlehem. We stopped before a peasant's house that stood by
itself at the extremity of the village. The farmer, hearing us
sing our Christmas hymns, came out with some victuals which he
intended to give us, and called out in a high voice and with a
harsh tone, Boys, where are you? Frightened at these words, we
ran off as fast as our legs would carry us. We had no reason to
be alarmed, for the farmer offered us assistance with great
kindness; but our hearts, no doubt, were rendered timorous by the
menaces and tyranny with which the teachers were then accustomed
to rule over their pupils, so that a sudden panic had seized us.
At last, however, as the farmer continued calling after us, we
stopped, forgot our fears, ran back to him, and received from his
hands the food intended for us. It is thus," adds Luther, "that
we are accustomed to tremble and flee, when our conscience is
guilty and alarmed. In such a case we are afraid even of the
assistance that is offered us, and of those who are our friends,
and who would willingly do us every good."
A year had scarcely passed away, when John and Margaret,
hearing what difficulty their son found in supporting himself at
Magdeburg, sent him to Eisenach, where there was a celebrated
school, and in which town they had many relatives. They had
other children; and although their means had increased, they
could not maintain their son in a place where he was unknown.
The furnaces and the industry of John Luther did little more than
provide for the support of his family. He hoped that when Martin
arrived at Eisenach, he would more easily find the means of
subsistence; but he was not more fortunate in this town. His
relations who dwelt there took no care about him, or perhaps,
being very poor themselves, they could not give him any
assistance.
When the young scholar was pinched by hunger, he was
compelled, as at Madgeburg, to join with his schoolfellows in
singing from door to door to obtain a morsel of bread. This
custom of Luther's days is still preserved in many German cities:
sometimes the voices of the youths form an harmonious concert.
Often, instead of food, the poor and modest Martin received
nothing but harsh words. Then, overwhelmed with sorrow, he shed
many tears in secret, and thought with anxiety of the future.
One day, in particular, he had already been repulsed from
three houses, and was preparing to return fasting to his
lodgings, when, having reached the square of St. George, he
stopped motionless, plunged in melancholy reflections, before the
house of a worthy citizen. Must he for want of bread renounce
his studies, and return to labor with his father in the mines of
Mansfeldt?......Suddenly a door opens--a woman appears on the
threshold: it is Ursula, the wife of Conrad Cotta, and daughter
of the burgomaster of Ilfeld. The Eisenach chronicles style her
"the pious Shunamite," in remembrance of her who so earnestly
constrained the prophet Elisha to stay and eat bread with her.
The christian Shunamite had already more than once remarked the
youthful Martin in the assemblies of the faithful; she had been
affected by the sweetness of his voice and by his devotion. She
had heard the harsh words that had been addressed to the poor
scholar, and seeing him stand thus sadly before her door, she
came to his aid, beckoned him to enter, and gave him food to
appease his hunger.
Conrad approved of his wife's benevolence: he even found so
much pleasure in the boy's society, that a few days after he took
him to live entirely with him. Henceforward his studies were
secured. He is not obliged to return to the mines of Mansfeldt,
and bury the talents that God has intrusted to him. At a time
when he knew not what would become of him, God opened the heart
and the house of a christian family. This event disposed his
soul to that confidence in God which the severest trials could
not afterwards shake.
Luther passed in Cotta's house a very different kind of life
from that which he had hitherto known. His existence glided away
calmly, exempt from want and care: his mind became more serene,
his character more cheerful, and his heart more open. All his
faculties awoke at the mild rays of charity, and he began to
exult with life, joy, and happiness. His prayers were more
fervent, his thirst for knowledge greater, and his progress in
study more rapid.
To literature and science he added the charms of the fine
arts; for they also were advancing in Germany. The men whom God
destines to act upon their contemporaries, are themselves at
first influenced and carried away by all the tendencies of the
age in which they live. Luther learned to play on the flute and
on the lute. With this latter instrument he used often to
accompany his fine alto voice, and thus cheered his heart in the
hours of sadness. He took delight in testifying by his melody
his lively gratitude towards his adoptive mother, who was
passionately fond of music. He himself loved the art even to old
age, and composed the words and airs of some of the finest hymns
that Germany possesses. Many have even passed into our language.
These were happy times for young Luther: he could never
think of them without emotion. One of Conrad's sons coming many
years after to study at Wittemberg, when the poor scholar of
Eisenach had become the first doctor of the age, was received
with joy at his table and under his roof. He wished to make some
return to the son for the kindness he had received from the
parents. It was in remembrance of this christian woman who had
fed him when all the world repulsed him, that he gave utterance
to this beautiful thought: "There is nothing sweeter on earth
than the heart of a woman in which piety dwells."
Luther was never ashamed of these days in which, oppressed
by hunger, he used in sadness to beg the bread necessary for his
studies and his livelihood. Far from that, he used to reflect
with gratitude on the extreme poverty of his youth. He looked
upon it as one of the means that God had employed to make him
what he afterwards became, and he accordingly thanked him for it.
The poor children who were obliged to follow the same kind of
life, touched his heart. "Do not despise," said he, "the boys
who go singing through the streets, begging a little bread for
the love of God (panem propter Deum): I also have done the same.
It is true that somewhat later my father supported me with much
love and kindness at the university of Erfurth, maintaining me by
the sweat of his brow; yet I have been a poor beggar. And now,
by means of my pen, I have risen so high, that I would not change
lots with the Grand Turk himself. Nay more, should all the
riches of the earth be heaped one upon another, I would not take
them in exchange for what I possess. And yet I should not be
where I am, if I had not gone to school--if I had not learnt to
write."--Thus did this great man see in these his first humble
beginnings the origin of all his glory. He feared not to recall
to mind that the voice whose accents thrilled the empire and the
world, once used to beg for a morsel of bread in the streets of a
small town. The Christian finds a pleasure in such
recollections, because they remind him that it is in God alone he
should glory.
The strength of his understanding, the liveliness of his
imagination, the excellence of his memory, soon carried him
beyond all his schoolfellows. He made rapid progress especially
in Latin, in eloquence, and in poetry. He wrote speeches and
composed verses. As he was cheerful, obliging, and had what is
called "a good heart," he was beloved by his masters and by his
schoolfellows.
Among the professors he attaches himself particularly to
John Trebonius, a learned man, of an agreeable address, and who
had all that regard for youth which is so well calculated to
encourage them. Martin had noticed that whenever Trebonius
entered the schoolroom, he raised his cap to salute the pupils.
A great condescension in those pedantic times! This had
delighted the young man. He saw that he was something. The
respect of the master had elevated the scholar in his own
estimation. The colleagues of Trebonius, who did not adopt the
same custom, having one day expressed their astonishment at his
extreme condescension, he replied (and his answer did not the
less strike the youthful Luther): "There are among these boys
men of whom God will one day make burgomasters, chancellors,
doctors, and magistrates. Although you do not yet see them with
the badges of their dignity, it is right that you should treat
them with respect." Doubtless the young scholar listened with
pleasure to these words, and perhaps imagined himself already
with the doctor's cap upon his head!
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 2
The University--Scholastic Divinity and the Classics--Luther's
Piety--Discovery of the Bible--Illness--Luther admitted M.A.--
Conscience--Death of Alexis--The Thunder-Storm--Providence--
Farewell--Luther enters a Convent.
Luther had now reached his eighteenth year. He had tasted
the sweets of literature; he burnt with a desire of knowledge; he
sighed for a university education, and wished to repair to one of
those fountains of learning where he could slake his thirst for
letters. His father required him to study the law. Full of hope
in the talents of his son, he wished that he should cultivate
them and make them generally known. He already pictured him
discharging the most honorable functions among his fellow-
citizens, gaining the favor of princes, and shining on the
theatre of the world. It was determined that the young man
should go to Erfurth.
Luther arrived at this university in 1501. Jodocus,
surnamed the Doctor of Eisenach, was teaching there the
scholastic philosophy with great success. Melancthon regrets
that at that time nothing was taught at Erfurth but a system of
dialectics bristling with difficulties. He thinks that if Luther
had met with other professors, if they had taught him the milder
and calmer discipline of true philosophy, the violence of his
nature might have been moderated and softened. The new disciple
applied himself to study the philosophy of the Middle Ages in the
works of Occam, Scotus, Bonaventure, and Thomas Aquinas. In
later times all this scholastic divinity was his aversion. He
trembled with indignation whenever Aristotle's name was
pronounced in his presence, and he went so far as to say that if
Aristotle had not been a man, he should not have hesitated to
take him for the devil. But a mind so eager for learning as his
required other aliments; he began to study the masterpieces of
antiquity, the writings of Cicero, Virgil, and other classic
authors. He was not content, like the majority of students, with
learning their productions by heart: he endeavoured to fathom
their thoughts, to imbibe the spirit which animated them, to
appropriate their wisdom to himself, to comprehend the object of
their writings, and to enrich his mind with their pregnant
sentences and brilliant images. He often addressed questions to
his professors, and soon outstripped all his fellow-students.
Blessed with a retentive memory and a strong imagination, all
that he read or heard remained constantly present to his mind; it
was as if he had seen it himself. "Thus shone Luther in his
early years. The whole university," says Melancthon, "admired
his genius."
But even at this period the young man of eighteen did not
study merely to cultivate his intellect: he had those serious
thoughts, that heart directed heavenwards, which God gives to
those of whom he resolves to make his most zealous ministers.
Luther was sensible of his entire dependence upon God,--simple
and powerful conviction, which is at once the cause of deep
humility and of great actions! He fervently invoked the divine
blessing upon his labors. Every morning he began the day with
prayer; he then went to church, and afterwards applied to his
studies, losing not a moment in the whole course of the day. "To
pray well," he was in the habit of saying, "is the better half of
study."
The young student passed in the university library all the
time he could snatch from his academical pursuits. Books were as
yet rare, and it was a great privilege for him to profit by the
treasures brought together in this vast collection. One day--he
had then been two years at Erfurth, and was twenty years old--he
opens many books in the library one after another, to learn their
writers' names. One volume that he comes to attracts his
attention. He has never until this hour seen its like. He reads
the title--it is a Bible! a rare book, unknown in those times.
His interest is greatly excited: he is filled with astonishment
at finding other matters than those fragments of the gospels and
epistles that the Church has selected to be read to the people
during public worship every Sunday throughout the year. Until
this day he had imagined that they composed the whole Word of
God. And now he sees so many pages, so many chapters, so many
books of which he had had no idea! His heart beats, as he holds
the divinely inspired volume in his hand. With eagerness and
with indescribable emotion he turns over these leaves from God.
The first page on which he fixes his attention narrates the story
of Hannah and of the young Samuel. He reads--and his soul can
hardly contain the joy it feels. This child, whom his parents
lend to the Lord as long as he liveth; the song of Hannah, in
which she declares that Jehovah "raiseth up the poor out of the
dust, and lifteth the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among
princes;" this child who grew up in the temple in the presence of
the Lord; those sacrificers, the sons of Eli, who are wicked men,
who live in debauchery, and "make the Lord's people to
transgress;"--all this history, all this revelation that he has
just discovered, excites feelings till then unknown. He returns
home with a full heart. "Oh! that God would give me such a book
for myself," thought he. Luther was as yet ignorant both of
Greek and Hebrew. It is scarcely probable that he had studied
these languages during the first two or three years of his
residence at the university. The Bible that had filled him with
such transports was in Latin. He soon returned to the library to
pore over his treasure. He read it again and again, and then, in
his astonishment and joy, he returned to read it once more. The
first glimmerings of a new truth were then beginning to dawn upon
his mind.
Thus had God led him to the discovery of his Word--of that
book of which he was one day to give his fellow countrymen that
admirable translation in which Germany has for three centuries
perused the oracles of God. Perhaps for the first time his
precious volume has now been taken down from the place it
occupied in the library of Erfurth. This book, deposited upon
the unknown shelves of a gloomy hall, is about to become the book
of life to a whole nation. In that Bible the Reformation lay
hid.
It was in the same year that Luther took his first
academical degree--that of bachelor.
The excessive labor to which he had devoted himself in order
to pass his examination, occasioned a dangerous illness. Death
seemed approaching him: serious reflections occupied his mind.
He thought that his earthly existence was drawing to an end. The
young man excited general interest. "It is a pity," they
thought, "to see so many expectations so early blighted." Many
friends came to visit him on his bed of sickness. Among their
number was a venerable and ages priest, who had watched with
interest the student of Mansfeldt in his labors and in his
academic career. Luther could not conceal the thoughts that
occupied his mind. "Soon," said he, "I shall be called away from
this world." But the old man kindly replied, "My dear bachelor,
take courage; you will not die of this illness. Our God will yet
make of you a man who, in turn, shall console many. For God
layeth his cross upon those whom he loveth, and they who bear it
patiently acquire much wisdom." These words struck the young
invalid. It was when he was so near death that he heard the
voice of a priest remind him that God, as Samuel's mother said,
raiseth up the miserable. The old man had poured sweet
consolation into his heart, had revived his spirits; never will
he forget it. "This was the first prediction that the worthy
doctor heard," says Mathesius, Luther's friend, who records the
fact, "and he often used to call it to mind." We may easily
comprehend in what sense Mathesius calls these words a
prediction.
When Luther recovered, there was a great change in him. The
Bible, his illness, the words of the aged priest, seem to have
made a new appeal to him: but as yet there was nothing decided
in his mind. Another circumstance awakened serious thoughts
within him. It was the festival of Easter, probably in the year
1503. Luther was going to pass a short time with his family, and
wore a sword according to the custom of the age. He struck
against it with his foot, the blade fell out, and cut one of the
principal arteries. Luther, whose only companion had run off in
haste to seek for assistance, finding himself alone, and seeing
the blood flowing copiously without being able to check it, lay
down on his back, and put his finger on the wound; but the blood
escaped in despite of his exertions, and Luther, feeling the
approach of death, cried out, "O Mary, help me!" At last a
surgeon arrived from Erfurth, who bound up the cut. The wound
opened in the night, and Luther fainted, again calling loudly
upon the Virgin. "At that time," said he in after-years, "I
should have died relying upon Mary." Erelong he abandoned that
superstition, and invoked a more powerful Saviour. He continued
his studies. In 1505 he was admitted M.A. and doctor of
philosophy. The university of Erfurth was then the most
celebrated in all Germany. The others were but inferior schools
in comparison with it. The ceremony was conducted, as usual,
with great pomp. A procession by torchlight came to pay honor to
Luther. The festival was magnificent. It was a general
rejoicing. Luther, encouraged perhaps by these honors, felt
disposed to apply himself entirely to the law, in conformity with
his father's wishes.
But the will of God was different. While Luther was
occupied with various studies, and beginning to teach the physics
and ethics of Aristotle, with other branches of philosophy, his
heart ceased not from crying to him that religion was the one
thing needful, and that above all things he should secure his
salvation. He knew the displeasure that God manifests against
sin; he called to mind the penalties that his Word denounces
against the sinner; and he asked himself, with apprehension,
whether he was sure of possessing the divine favor. His
conscience answered, No! His character was prompt and decided:
he resolved to do all that might ensure him a firm hope of
immortality. Two events occurred, one after the other, to
disturb his soul, and to hasten his resolution.
Among his university friends was one named Alexis, with whom
he lived in the closest intimacy. One morning a report was
spread in Erfurth that Alexis had been assassinated. Luther
hastens to ascertain the truth of this rumor. This sudden loss
of his friend agitated him, and the question he asked himself,
What would become of me, if I were thus called away without
warning? fills his mind with the keenest terrors.
It was in the summer of the year 1505 that Luther, whom the
ordinary university vacations left at liberty, resolved to go to
Mansfeldt, to revisit the dear scenes of his childhood and to
embrace his parents. Perhaps also he wished to open his heart to
his father, to sound him on the plan that he was forming in his
mind, and obtain his permission to engage in another profession.
He foresaw all the difficulties that awaited him. The idle life
of the majority of priests was displeasing to the active miner of
Mansfeldt. Besides, the ecclesiastics were but little esteemed
in the world; for the most part their revenues were scanty; and
the father, who had made great sacrifices to maintain his son at
the university, and who now saw him teaching publicly in a
celebrated school, although only in his twentieth year, was not
likely to renounce the proud hopes he had cherished.
We are ignorant of what passed during Luther's stay at
Mansfeldt. Perhaps the decided wish of his father made him fear
to open his heart to him. He again quitted his father's house to
take his seat on the benches of the academy. He was already
within a short distance of Erfurth, when he was overtaken by a
violent storm, such as often occurs in these mountains. The
lightning flashed--the bolt fell at his feet. Luther threw
himself upon his knees. His hour, perhaps, is come. Death, the
judgment, and eternity summon him with all their terrors, and he
hears a voice that he can no longer resist. "Encompassed with
the anguish and terror of death," as he says himself, he made a
vow, if the Lord delivers him from this danger, to abandon the
world, and devote himself entirely to God. After rising from the
ground, having still present to him that death which must one day
overtake him, he examines himself seriously, and asks what he
ought to do. The thoughts that once agitated him now return with
greater force. He has endeavoured, it is true, to fulfil all his
duties, but what is the state of his soul? Can he appear before
the tribunal of a terrible God with an impure heart? He must
become holy. He has now as great a thirst for holiness, as he
had formerly for knowledge. But where can he find it, or where
can he attain it? The university provided him with the means of
satisfying his first desires. Who shall calm that anguish--who
shall quench the fire that now consumes him? To what school of
holiness shall he direct his steps? He will enter a cloister:
the monastic life will save him. Oftentimes has he heard speak
of its power to transform the heart, to sanctify the sinner, to
make man perfect! He will enter a monastic order. He will there
become holy: thus will he secure eternal life.
Such was the event that changed the calling, the whole
destiny of Luther. In this we perceive the finger of God. It
was his powerful hand that on the highway cast down the young
master of arts, the candidate for the bar, the future lawyer, to
give an entirely new direction to his life. Rubianus, one of
Luther's friends at the university of Erfurth, wrote thus to him
in after-life: "Divine Providence looked at what you were one
day to become, when on your return from your parents, the fire
from heaven threw you to the ground, like another Paul, near the
city of Erfurth, and withdrawing you from our society, drove you
into the Augustine order." Analogous circumstances have marked
the conversion of the two greatest instruments that Divine
Providence has made use of in the two greatest revolutions that
have been effected upon the earth: Saint Paul and Luther.
Luther re-enters Erfurth. His resolution in unalterable.
Still it is not without a pang that he prepares to break the ties
so dear to him. He communicates his intention to no one. But
one evening he invites his university friends to a cheerful but
frugal supper. Music once more enlivens their social meeting.
It is Luther's farewell to the world. Henceforth, instead of
these amiable companions of his pleasures and his studies, he
will have monks; instead of this gay and witty conversation--the
silence of the cloister; and for these merry songs--the solemn
strains of the quiet chapel. God calls him, and he must
sacrifice everything. Still, for the last time, let him share in
the joys of his youth! The repast excites his friends: Luther
himself is the soul of the party. But at the very moment that
they are giving way without restraint to their gaiety, the young
man can no longer control the serious thoughts that fill his
mind. He speaks--he makes known his intention to his astonished
friends. They endeavour to shake it, but in vain. And that very
night Luther, fearful perhaps of their importunate solicitations,
quits his lodgings. He leaves behind him all his clothes and
books, taking with him only Virgil and Plautus; he had no Bible
as yet. Virgil and Plautus! an epic poem and comedies!
striking picture of Luther's mind! There had in effect taken
place in him a whole epic--a beautiful, grand, and sublime poem;
but as he had a disposition inclined to gaiety, wit, and humor,
he combined more than one familiar feature with the serious and
stately groundwork of his life.
Provided with these two books, he repairs alone, in the
darkness of night, to the convent of the hermits of St.
Augustine. He asks admittance. The gate opens and closes again.
Behold him separated for ever from his parents, from the
companions of his studies, and from the world! It was the 17th
August 1505: Luther was then twenty-one years and nine months
old.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 3
His Father's Anger--Pardon--Humiliations--The Sack and the Cell--
Endurance--Luther's Studies--St. Augustine--Peter d'Ailly--Occam-
-Gerson--The chained Bible--Lyra--Hebrew and Greek--Daily
Prayers--Asceticism--Mental Struggles--Luther during Mass--
Useless Observances--Luther in a Fainting-fit.
Luther was with God at last. His soul was in safety. He
was now about to find that holiness which he so much desired.
The monks were astonished at the sight of the youthful doctor,
and extolled his courage and his contempt of the world. He did
not, however, forget his friends. He wrote to them, bidding
farewell to them and to the world; and on the next day he sent
these letters, with the clothes he had worn till then, and
returned to the university his ring of master of arts, that
nothing might remind him of the world he had renounced.
His friends at Erfurth were struck with astonishment. Must
so eminent a genius go and hide himself in that monastic state,
which is a partial death? Filled with the liveliest sorrow, they
hastily repair to the convent, in the hope of inducing Luther to
retrace so afflicting a step; but all was useless. For two whole
days they surrounded the convent and almost besieged it, in the
hope of seeing Luther come forth. But the gates remained closely
shut and barred. A month elapsed without anyone being able to
see or speak to the new monk.
Luther had also hastened to communicate to his parents the
great change that had taken place in his life. His father was
amazed. He trembled for his son, as Luther himself tells us in
the dedication of his work on monastic vows addressed to his
father. His weakness, his youth, the violence of his passions,
all led John Luther to fear that when the first moment of
enthusiasm was over, the idle habits of the cloister would make
the young man fall either into despair or into some great sin.
He knew that this kind of life had already been the destruction
of many. Besides, the councillor-miner of Mansfeldt had formed
very different plans for his son. He had hoped that he would
contract a rich and honorable marriage. And now all his
ambitious projects are overthrown in one night by this imprudent
step.
John wrote a very angry letter to his son, in which he spoke
to him in a contemptuous tone, as Luther informs us, while he had
addressed him always in a friendly manner after he had taken his
master-of-arts degree. He withdrew all his favor, and declared
him disinherited from his paternal affection. In vain did his
father's friends, and doubtless his wife, endeavour to soften
him; in vain did they say: "If you would offer a sacrifice to
God, let it be what you hold best and dearest,--even your son,
your Isaac." The inexorable councillor of Mansfeldt would listen
to nothing.
Not long after, however (as Luther tells us in a sermon
preached at Wittemberg, 20th January 1544), the plague appeared,
and deprived John Luther of two of his sons. About this time
some one came and told the bereaved father the monk of Erfurth is
dead also!......His friends seized the opportunity of reconciling
the father to the young novice. "If it should be a false alarm,"
said they to him, "at least sanctify your affliction by cordially
consenting to your son's becoming a monk!"--"Well! so be it!"
replied John Luther, with a heart bruised, yet still half
rebellious, "and God grant he may prosper!" Some time after
this, when Luther, who had been reconciled to his father, related
to him the event that had induced him to enter a monastic order:
"God grant," replied the worthy miner, "that you may not have
taken for a sign from heaven what was merely a delusion of the
devil."
There was not then in Luther that which was afterwards to
make him the reformer of the Church. Of this his entrance into
the convent is a strong proof. It was a proceeding in conformity
with the tendencies of the age from which he was soon to
contribute his endeavours to liberate the Church. He who was
destined to become the great teacher of the world, was as yet its
slavish imitator. A new stone had been added to the edifice of
superstition by the very man who was erelong to destroy it.
Luther looked to himself for salvation, to human works and
observances. He knew not that salvation cometh wholly from God.
He sought after his own glory and righteousness, unmindful of the
righteousness and glory of the Lord. But what he was ignorant of
as yet, he learnt soon after. It was in the cloister of Erfurth
that this immense transformation was brought about, which
substituted in his heart God and his wisdom for the world and its
traditions, and that prepared the mighty revolution of which he
was to be the most illustrious instrument.
When Martin Luther entered the convent, he changed his name,
and assumed that of Augustine.
The monks had received him with joy. It was no slight
gratification to their vanity to see one of the most esteemed
doctors of the age abandon the university for a house belonging
to their order. Nevertheless they treated him harshly, and
imposed on him the meanest occupations. They wished to humble
the doctor of philosophy, and to teach him that his learning did
not raise him above his brethren. They imagined, besides, by
this means to prevent him from devoting himself so much to his
studies, from which the convent could reap no advantage. The
former master of arts had to perform the offices of porter, to
open and shut the gates, to wind up the clock, to sweep the
church, and to clean out the cells. Then, when the poor monk,
who was at once doorkeeper, sexton, and menial servant of the
cloister, had finished his work: Cum sacco per civitatem! Away
with your wallet through the town! cried the friars; and laden
with his bread-bag, he wandered through all the streets of
Erfurth, begging from house to house, obliged perhaps to present
himself at the doors of those who had once been his friends or
his inferiors. On his return, he had either to shut himself up
in a low and narrow cell, whence he could see nothing but a small
garden a few feet square, or recommence his humble tasks. But he
put up with all. Naturally disposed to devote himself entirely
to whatever he undertook, he had become a monk with all his soul.
Besides, how could he have a thought of sparing his body, or have
had any regard for what might please the flesh? It was not thus
that he could acquire the humility, the sanctity which he had
come to seek within the walls of the cloister.
The poor monk, oppressed with toil hastened to employ in
study all the moments that he could steal from these mean
occupations. He voluntarily withdrew from the society of the
brethren to give himself up to his beloved pursuits; but they
soon found it out, and surrounding him with murmurs, tore him
from his books, exclaiming, "Come, come! It is not by studying,
but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, meat, and money that a
monk renders himself useful to the cloister." Luther submitted:
he laid aside his books, and took up his bag again. Far from
repenting at having taken upon himself such a yoke, he is willing
to go through with his task. It was then that the inflexible
perseverance with which he always carried out the resolutions he
had once formed, began to be developed in his mind. The
resistance he made to these rude assaults gave a stronger temper
to his will. God tried him in small things, that he might learn
to remain unshaken in great ones. Besides, to be able to deliver
his age from the miserable superstitions under which it groaned,
it was necessary for him first to feel their weight. To drain
the cup, he must drink it to the very dregs.
This severe apprenticeship did not however last so long as
Luther might have feared. The prior of the convent, at the
intercession of the university to which Luther belonged, freed
him from the humiliating duties that had been laid upon him. The
youthful monk then returned to his studies with new zeal. The
works of the Fathers of the Church, especially of St. Augustine,
attracted his attention. The exposition of the Psalms by this
illustrious doctor, and his book On the letter and the Spirit,
were his favorite study. Nothing struck him more than the
sentiments of this Father on the corruption of man's will and on
Diving Grace. He felt by his own experience the reality of that
corruption and the necessity for that grace. The words of St.
Augustine corresponded with the sentiments of his heart. If he
could have belonged to any other school than that of Jesus
Christ, it would undoubtedly have been to that of the doctor of
Hippo. He almost knew by rote the works of Peter d'Ailly and of
Gabriel Biel. He was much taken with a saying of the former,
that, if the Church had not decided to the contrary, it would
have been preferable to concede that the bread and wine were
really taken in the Lord's supper, and not mere accidents.
He also carefully studied the theologians Occam and Gerson,
who both express themselves so freely on the authority of the
popes. To this course of reading he added other exercises. He
was heard in the public discussions unravelling the most
complicated trains of reasoning, and extricating himself from a
labyrinth whence none but he could have found an outlet. All his
auditors were filled with astonishment.
But he had not entered the cloister to acquire the
reputation of a great genius: it was to seek food for his piety.
He therefore regarded these labors as mere digressions.
He loved above all things to draw wisdom from the pure
source of the Word of God. He found in the convent a Bible
fastened by a chain, and to this chained Bible he was continually
returning. He had but little understanding of the Word, yet was
it his most pleasing study. It sometimes happened that he passed
a whole day meditating upon a single passage. At other times he
learned fragments of the Prophets by heart. He especially
desired to acquire from the writings of the Prophets and of the
Apostles a perfect knowledge of God's will; to grow up in greater
fear of His name; and to nourish his faith by the sure testimony
of the Word.
It would appear that about this time he began to study the
Scriptures in their original languages, and to lay the foundation
of the most perfect and most useful of his labors--the
translation of the Bible. He made use of Reuchlin's Hebrew
Lexicon, that had just appeared. John Lange, one of the friars
of the convent, a man skilled in Greek and Hebrew, and with whom
he always remained closely connected, probably was his first
instructor. He also made much use of the learned commentaries of
Nicholas Lyra, who died in 1340. It was from this circumstance
that Pflug, afterwards bishop of Naumburg, said: Si Lyra non
lyrasset, Lutherus non saltasset.
The young monk studied with such industry and zeal that it
often happened that he did not repeat the daily prayers for three
or four weeks together. But he soon grew alarmed at the thought
that he had transgressed the rules of his order. He then shut
himself up to repair his negligence, and began to repeat
conscientiously all the prayers he had omitted, without a thought
of either eating or drinking. Once even, for seven weeks
together, he scarcely closed his eyes in sleep.
Burning with desire to attain that holiness in quest of
which he had entered the cloister, Luther gave way to all the
rigor of an ascetic life. He endeavoured to crucify the flesh by
fasting, mortifications, and watching. Shut up in his cell, as
in a prison, he struggled unceasingly against the deceitful
thoughts and the evil inclinations of his heart. A little bread
and a small herring were often his only food. Besides he was
naturally of very abstemious habits. Thus he was frequently seen
by his friends. Long after he had ceased to think of purchasing
heaven by his abstinence, content himself with the poorest
viands, and remain even four days in succession without eating or
drinking. This we have on the testimony of Melancthon, a witness
in every respect worthy of credit. We may judge from this
circumstance of the little value we ought to attach to the fables
that ignorance and prejudice have circulated as to Luther's
intemperance. At the period of which we are speaking, nothing
was too great a sacrifice that might enable him to become a
saint,--to acquire heaven. Never did the Romish church possess a
more pious monk. Never did cloister witness more severe or
indefatigable exertions to purchase eternal happiness. When
Luther had become a reformer, and had declared that heaven was
not to be obtained by such means as these, he knew very well what
he was saying. "I was indeed a pious monk," wrote he to Duke
George of Saxony, "and followed the rules of my order more
strictly than I can express. If ever monk could obtain heaven by
his monkish works, I should certainly have been entitled to it.
Of this all the friars who have known me can testify. If it had
continued much longer, I should have carried my mortifications
even to death, by means of my watching, prayers, reading, and
other labors."
We are approaching the epoch which made Luther a new man,
and which, by revealing to him the infinity of God's love, put
him in a condition to declare it to the world.
Luther did not find in the tranquillity of the cloister and
in monkish perfection that peace of mind which he had looked for
there. He wished to have the assurance of his salvation: this
was the great want of his soul. Without it, there was no repose
for him. But the fears that had agitated him in the world pursue
him to his cell. Nay, they were increased. The faintest cry of
his heart re-echoed loud beneath the silent arches of the
cloister. God had led him thither, that he might learn to know
himself, and to despair of his own strength and virtue. His
conscience, enlightened by the Divine Word, told him what it was
to be holy; but he was filled with terror at finding, neither in
his heart nor in his life, that image of holiness which he had
contemplated with admiration in the Word of God. A sad
discovery, and one that is made by every sincere man! No
righteousness within, no righteousness without! all was
omission, sin, impurity!......The more ardent the character of
Luther, the stronger was that secret and constant resistance
which man's nature opposes to good; and it plunged him into
despair.
The monks and divines of the day encouraged him to satisfy
the divine righteousness by meritorious works. But what works,
thought he, can come from a heart like mine? How can I stand
before the holiness of my judge with works polluted in their very
source? "I saw that I was a great sinner in the eyes of God,"
said he, "and I did not think it possible for me to propitiate
him by my own merits."
He was agitated and yet dejected, avoiding the trifling and
stupid conversation of the monks. The latter, unable to
comprehend the storms that tosses his soul, looked upon him with
surprise, and reproached him for his silence and his gloomy air.
One day, Cochloeus tells us, as they were saying mass in the
chapel, Luther had carried thither all his anxiety, and was in
the choir in the midst of the brethren, sad and heart-stricken.
Already the priest had prostrated himself, the incense had been
burnt before the altar, the Gloria sung, and they were reading
the Gospel, when the poor monk, unable any longer to repress his
anguish, cried out in a mournful tone, as he fell on his knees,
"It is not I--it is not I." All were thunderstruck: and the
ceremony was interrupted for a moment. Perhaps Luther thought he
heard some reproach of which he knew himself innocent; perhaps he
declared his unworthiness of being one of those to whom Christ's
death had brought the gift of eternal life. Chochloeus says,
they were then reading the story of the dumb man's cry from whom
Christ expelled a devil. It is possible that this cry of Luther,
if the account be true, had reference to this circumstance, and
that, although speechless like the dumb man, he protested by such
an exclamation, that his silence came from other causes than
demoniacal possession. Indeed, Cochloeus tells us that the monks
sometimes attributed the sufferings of their brother to a secret
intercourse with the devil, and this writer himself entertained
that opinion.
A tender conscience inclined Luther to regard the slightest
fault as a great sin. He had hardly discovered it, before he
endeavoured to expiate it by the severest mortifications which
only served to point out to him the inutility of all human
remedies. "I tortured myself almost to death," said he, "in
order to procure peace with God for my troubled heart and
agitated conscience; but surrounded with thick darkness, I found
peace nowhere."
The practices of monastic holiness, which had lulled so many
consciences to sleep, and to which Luther himself had had
recourse in his distress, soon appeared to him the unavailing
remedies of an empirical and deceptive religion. "While I was
yet a monk, I no sooner felt assailed by any temptation than I
cried out--I am lost! Immediately I had recourse to a thousand
methods to stifle the cries of my conscience. I went every day
to confession, but that was of no use to me. Then bowed down by
sorrow, I tortured myself by the multitude of my thoughts.--Look!
exclaimed I, thou art still envious, impatient, passionate!...It
profiteth thee nothing, O wretched man, to have entered this
sacred order."
And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices of his time, had
from early youth considered the observances, whose worthlessness
he had now discovered, as a certain remedy for diseased souls.
What can he think of the strange discovery he has just made in
the solitude of the cloister? It is possible, then, to dwell
within the sanctuary, and yet bear in one's bosom a man of
sin!......He has received another garment, but not another heart.
His expectations are disappointed. Where can he stop? Can all
these rules and observances be mere human inventions? Such a
supposition appears to him, at one time, a temptation of the
devil, and at another, an irresistible truth. By turns
contending with the holy voice that spake to his heart, and with
the venerable institutions that time had sanctioned, Luther
passed his life in a continual struggle. The young monk crept
like a shadow through the long galleries of the cloister, that
re-echoed with his sorrowful moanings. His body wasted away; his
strength began to fail him; it sometimes happened that he
remained like one dead.
On one occasion, overwhelmed with sorrow, he shut himself up
in his cell, and for several days and nights allowed no one to
approach him. One of his friends, Lucas Edemberger, feeling
anxious about the unhappy monk, and having a presentiment of the
condition in which he was, took with him some boys who were in
the habit of singing in the choirs, and knocked at the door of
the cell. No one opens--no one answers. The good Edemberger,
still more alarmed, breaks open the door. Luther lies insensible
upon the floor, and giving no sign of life. His friend strives
in vain to recall him to his senses: he is still motionless.
Then the choristers begin to sing a sweet hymn. Their clear
voices act like a charm on the poor monk, to whom music was ever
one of his greatest pleasures: gradually he recovers his
strength, his consciousness, and life. But if music could restore
his serenity for a few moments, he requires another and a
stronger remedy to heal him thoroughly: he needs that mild and
subtle sound of the Gospel, which is the voice of God himself.
He knew it well. And therefore his troubles and his terrors led
him to study with fresh zeal the writings of the prophets and of
the apostles.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 4
Pious Monks--Staupitz--His Piety--Visitation--Conversations--The
Grace of Christ--Repentance--Power of Sin--Sweetness of
Repentance--Election--Providence--The Bible--The aged Monk--
Forgiveness of Sins--Ordination--The Dinner--Festival of Corpus
Christi--Luther made Professor at Wittemberg.
Luther was not the first monk who had undergone such trials.
The gloomy walls of the cloister often concealed the most
abominable vices, that would have made every upright mind
shudder, had they been revealed; but often also, they hid
christian virtues that expanded there in silence, and which, had
they been exposed to the eyes of the world, would have excited
universal admiration. The possessors of these virtues, living
only with themselves and with God, attracted no attention, and
were often unknown to the modest convent in which they were
enclosed: their lives were known only to God. Sometimes these
humble solitaries fell into that mystic theology,--sad disease of
the noblest minds! which in earlier ages had been the delight of
the first monks on the banks of the Nile, and which unprofitably
consumes the souls of those who become its victims.
Yet if one of these men was called to some high station, he
there displayed virtues whose salutary influence was long and
widely felt. The candle was set on a candlestick, and it
illumined the whole house. Many were awakened by this light.
Thus from generation to generation were these pious souls
propagated; they were seen shining like isolated torches at the
very times when the cloisters were often little other than impure
receptacles of the deepest darkness.
A young man had been thus distinguished in one of the German
convents. His name was John Staupitz, and he was descended from
a noble Misnian family. From his tenderest youth he had had a
taste for knowledge and a love of virtue. He felt the need of
retirement to devote himself to letters. He soon discovered that
philosophy and the study of nature could not do much towards
eternal salvation. He therefore began to learn divinity; but
especially endeavoured to unite practice with knowledge. "For,"
says one of his biographers, "it is in vain that we assume the
name of divine, if we do not confirm that noble title by our
lives." The study of the Bible and of the Augustine theology,
the knowledge of himself, the battles that he, like Luther, had
had to fight against the deceits and lusts of his heart, led him
to the Redeemer. He found peace to his soul in faith in Christ.
The doctrine of election by grace had taken strong hold of his
mind. The integrity of his life, the extent of his knowledge,
the eloquence of his speech, not less than a striking exterior
and dignified manners, recommended him to his contemporaries.
Frederick the Wise, elector of Saxony, made him his friend,
employed him in various embassies, and founded the university of
Wittemberg under his direction. This disciple of St. Paul and
St. Augustine was the first dean of the theological faculty of
that school whence the light was one day to issue to illumine the
schools and churches of so many nations. He was present at the
Lateran council, as proxy of the Archbishop of Saltzburg, became
provincial of his order in Thuringia and Saxony, and afterwards
vicar-general of the Augustines for all Germany.
Staupitz was grieved at the corruption of morals and the
errors of doctrine that were devastating the Church. His
writings on the love of God, on christian faith, and on
conformity with the death of Christ, and the testimony of Luther,
confirm this. But he considered the former evil of more
importance than the latter. Besides the mildness and indecision
of his character, his desire not to go beyond the sphere of
action he thought assigned to him, made him fitter to be the
restorer of a convent than the reformer of the Church. He would
have wished to raise none but distinguished men to important
offices: but not finding them, he submitted to employ others.
"We must plough," said he, "with such horses as we can find; and
with oxen, if there are no horses."
We have witnessed the anguish and the internal struggles to
which Luther was a prey in the convent of Erfurth. At this
period a visitation of the vicar-general was announced. In fact
Staupitz came to make his usual inspection. The friend of
Frederick, the founder of the university of Wittemberg, and chief
of the Augustines, exhibited much kindness to those monks who
were under his authority. One of these brothers soon attracted
his attention. He was a young man of middle height, whom study,
fasting, and prolonged vigils had so wasted away that all his
bones might be counted. His eyes, that in after-years were
compared to a falcon's, were sunken; his manner was dejected; his
countenance betrayed an agitated mind, the prey of a thousand
struggles, but yet strong and resolute. His whole appearance was
grave, melancholy, and solemn. Staupitz, whose discernment had
been exercised by long experience, easily discovered what was
passing in his mind, and distinguished the youthful monk above
all who surrounded him. He felt drawn towards him, had a
presentiment of his great destiny, and entertained quite a
paternal interest for his inferior. He had had to struggle, like
Luther, and therefore he could understand him. Above all, he
could point out to him the road to peace, which he himself had
found. What he learnt of the circumstances that had brought the
young Augustine into the convent, still more increased his
sympathy. He requested the prior to treat him with greater
mildness, and took advantage of the opportunities afforded by his
station to win the confidence of the youthful brother.
Approaching him with affection, he endeavoured by every means to
dispel his timidity, which was increased by the respect and fear
that a man of such exalted rank as Staupitz must necessarily
inspire.
Luther's heart, which harsh treatment had closed till then,
opened at last and expanded under the mild beams of charity. "As
in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man."
Luther's heart found an echo in that of Staupitz. The vicar-
general understood him, and the monk felt a confidence towards
him, that he had as yet experienced for none. He unbosomed to
him the cause of his dejection, described the horrible thoughts
that perplexed him, and then began in the cloister of Erfurth
those conversations so full of wisdom and of instruction. Up to
this time no one had understood Luther. One day, when at table
in the refectory, the young monk, dejected and silent, scarcely
touched his food. Staupitz, who looked earnestly at him, said at
last, "Why are you so sad, brother Martin?"--"Ah!" replied he,
with a deep sigh, "I do not know what will become of me!"--"These
temptations," resumed Staupitz, "are more necessary to you than
eating and drinking." These two men did not stop there; and
erelong in the silence of the cloister took place that intimate
intercourse, which powerfully contributed to lead forth the
future reformer from his state of darkness.
"It is in vain," said Luther despondingly to Staupitz, "that
I make promises to God: sin is ever the strongest."
"O my friend!" replied the vicar-general, looking back on
his own experience; "more than a thousand times have I sworn to
our holy God to live piously, and I have never kept my vows. Now
I swear no longer, for I know I cannot keep my solemn promises.
If God will not be merciful towards me for the love of Christ,
and grant me a happy departure, when I must quit this world, I
shall never, with the aid of all my vows and all my good works,
stand before him. I must perish."
The young monk is terrified at the thought of divine
justice. He lays open all his fears to the vicar-general. He is
alarmed at the unspeakable holiness of God and his sovereign
majesty. "Who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall
stand when he appeareth?" (Mal. iii. 2.)
Staupitz resumes: he knows where he had found peace, and he
will point it out to the young man. "Why," said he, "do you
torment yourself with all these speculations and these high
thoughts?......Look at the wounds of Jesus Christ, to the blood
that he has shed for you: it is there that the grace of God will
appear to you. Instead of torturing yourself on account of your
sins, throw yourself into the Redeemer's arms. Trust in him--in
the righteousness of his life--in the atonement of his death. Do
not shrink back; God is not angry with you, it is you who are
angry with God. Listen to the Son of God. He became man to give
you the assurance of divine favor. He says to you, You are my
sheep; you hear my voice; no man shall pluck you out of my hand."
But Luther does not find in himself the repentance which he
thinks necessary for salvation: he replies, and it is the usual
answer of distressed and timid minds: "How can I dare believe in
the favor of God, so long as there is no real conversion in me?
I must be changed, before he will accept me."
His venerable guide shows him that there can be no real
conversion, so long as man fears God as a severe judge. "What
will you say then," asks Luther "to so many consciences to which
a thousand insupportable tasks are prescribed in order that they
may gain heaven?"
Then he hears this reply of the vicar-general, or rather he
does not believe that it comes from man: it seems to him like a
voice from heaven. "There is no real repentance except that
which begins with the love of God and of righteousness. What
others imagine to be the end and accomplishment of repentance, is
on the contrary only its beginning. In order that you may be
filled with the love for God. If you desire to be converted, do
not be curious about all these mortifications and all these
tortures. Love him who first loved you!"
Luther listens--he listens again. These consolations fill
him with joy till then unknown, and impart new light. "It is
Jesus Christ," thinks he in his heart; "yes, it is Jesus Christ
himself who so wonderfully consoles me by these sweet and healing
words."
These words, indeed, penetrated to the bottom of the young
monk's heart, like the sharp arrow of a strong man. In order to
repent, we must love God. Guided by this new light, he begins to
compare the Scriptures. He looks out all the passages that treat
of repentance and conversion. These words, till then so dreaded,
to use his own expression, "are become to him an agreeable
pastime and the sweetest of recreations. All the passages of
Scripture that used to alarm him, seem now to run to him from
every part,--to smile and sport around him."
"Hitherto," exclaims he, "although I carefully dissembled
the state of my soul before God, and endeavoured to express
towards him a love which was a mere constraint and a fiction,
there was no expression in Scripture so bitter to me as that of
repentance. But now there is none so sweet or more acceptable.
Oh! how delightful are all God's precepts when we read them not
only in books, but also in our Saviour's precious wounds!"
Although Luther had been consoled by Staupitz' words, he
nevertheless fell sometimes into despondency. Sin was again felt
in his timid conscience, and then all his previous despair
banished the joy of salvation. "O my sin! my sin! my sin!"
cried the young monk one day in the presence of the vicar-
general, with a tone of profound anguish. "Well! would you only
be a sinner in appearance," replied the latter, "and have also a
Saviour only in appearance? Then," added Staupitz with
authority, "Know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour even of those
who are great, real sinners, and deserving of utter
condemnation."
It was not alone the sin he discovered in his heart that
agitated Luther; the troubles of his conscience were augmented by
those of reason. If the holy precepts of the Bible alarmed him,
some of the doctrines of that divine book still more increased
his tortures. The Truth, which is the great medium by which God
confers peace on man, must necessarily begin by taking away from
him the false security that destroys him. The doctrine of
Election particularly disturbed the young man, and launched him
into a boundless field of inquiry. Must be believe that it was
man who first chose God for his portion, or that God first
elected man? The Bible, history, daily experience, the works of
Augustine,--all had shown him that we must always and in every
case ascend to that first cause, to that sovereign will by which
everything exists, and on which everything depends. But his
ardent spirit would have desired to go still further; he would
have wished to penetrate into the secret counsels of God,
unveiled his mysteries, seen the invisible, and comprehended the
incomprehensible. Staupitz checked him. He told him not to
presume to fathom the hidden God, but to confine himself to what
he has manifested to us in Jesus Christ. "Look at Christ's
wounds," said he, "and then will you see God's counsel towards
man shine brightly forth. We cannot understand God out of Jesus
Christ. In him, the Lord has said, you will find what I am, and
what I require. Nowhere else, neither in heaven nor in earth,
will you discover it."
The vicar-general did still more. He showed Luther the
paternal designs of Providence in permitting these temptations
and these various struggles that his soul was to undergo. He
made him view them in a light well calculated to revive his
courage. By such trials God prepares for himself the souls that
he destines for some important work. We must prove the vessel
before we launch it into the wide sea. If there is an eduction
necessary for every man, there is a particular one for those who
are destined to act upon their generation. This is what Staupitz
represented to the monk of Erfurth. "It is not in vain," said he
to him, "that God exercises you in so many conflicts: you will
see that he will employ you, as his servant, for great purposes."
These words, to which Luther listened with astonishment and
humility, inspired him with courage, and led him to discover
strength in himself which he had not even suspected. The wisdom
and prudence of an enlightened friend gradually revealed the
strong man to himself. Staupitz went further: he gave him many
valuable directions for his studies, exhorting him, henceforward,
to derive all his theology from the Bible, and to put away the
systems of the schools. "Let the study of the Scriptures," said
he, "be your favorite occupation." Never was good advice better
followed out. What particularly delighted Luther, was the
present Staupitz made him of a Bible: but it was not that Latin
one, bound in red leather, the property of the convent, and which
it was all his desire to possess, and to be able to carry about
with him, because he was so familiar with its pages, and knew
where to find each passage. Nevertheless, at length he is master
of the treasure of God. Henceforward he studies the Scriptures,
and especially the epistles of St. Paul, with ever-increasing
zeal. To these he adds the works of St. Augustine alone. All
that he reads is imprinted deeply in his mind. His struggles
have prepared his heart to understand the Word. The soil has
been ploughed deep: the incorruptible seed sinks into it with
power. When Staupitz quitted Erfurth, a new dawn had risen upon
Luther.
But the work was not yet finished. The vicar-general had
prepared the way: God reserved its accomplishment for an humbler
instrument. The conscience of the young Augustine had not yet
found repose. His body gave way at last under the conflict and
the tension of his soul. He was attacked by an illness that
brought him to the brink of the grave. This was in the second
year of his abode in the convent. All his distresses and all his
fears were aroused at the approach of death. His own impurity
and the holiness of God again disturbed his mind. One day, as he
lay overwhelmed with despair, an aged monk entered his cell, and
addressed a few words of comfort to him. Luther opened his heart
to him, and made known the fears by which he was tormented. The
venerable old man was incapable of following up that soul in all
its doubts, as Staupitz had done; but he knew his Credo, and had
found in it much consolation to his heart. He will therefore
apply the same remedy to his young brother. Leading him back to
that Apostles' creed which Luther had learnt in early childhood
at the school of Mansfeldt, the aged monk repeated this article
with kind good-nature: I believe in the forgiveness of sins.
These simple words, which the pious brother pronounced with
sincerity in this decisive moment, diffused great consolation in
Luther's heart. "I believe," he repeated to himself erelong on
his bed of sickness, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins!"--
"Ah!" said the monk, "you must believe not only in the
forgiveness of David's and of Peter's sins, for this even the
devils believe. It is God's command that we believe our own sins
are forgiven us." How delightful did this commandment seem to
poor Luther! "Hear what St. Bernard says in his discourse on the
Annunciation," added the aged brother: "The testimony of the
Holy Ghost in thy heart is this: Thy sins are forgiven thee."
From this moment light sprung up in the heart of the young
monk of Erfurth. The word of grace had been pronounced: he had
believed in it. He disclaims all merit of salvation, and resigns
himself confidingly to the grace of God in Jesus Christ. He does
not at first perceive the consequences of the principle he has
admitted; he is still sincere in his attachment to the Church,
and yet he has no further need of her; for he has received
salvation immediately from God himself, and henceforth Roman-
catholicism is virtually destroyed in him. He advances,--he
seeks in the writings of the apostles and prophets for all that
can strengthen the hope which fills his heart. Each day he
invokes support from on high, and each day also the light
increases in his soul.
Luther's mental health restored that of his body, and he
soon rose from his bed of sickness. He had received a new life
in a twofold scene. The festival of Christmas, that soon came,
gave him an opportunity abundantly tasting all the consolations
of faith. He took part in these holy solemnities with sweet
emotion; and when in the ceremonial of the day he had to chant
these words: O beata culpa, quae talem meruisti Redemptorem!
his whole being responded Amen, and thrilled with joy.
Luther had been two years in the cloister, and was to be
ordained priest. He had received much, and saw with delight the
prospect afforded by the sacerdotal office of freely distributing
what he had freely received. He wished to take advantage of the
ceremony that was about to take place to become thoroughly
reconciled with his father. He invited him to be present, and
even requested him to fix the day. John Luther, who was not yet
entirely pacified with regard to his son, nevertheless accepted
the invitation, and named Sunday, 2d May, 1507.
Among the number of Luther's friends was the vicar of
Eisenach, John Braun, who had been a faithful counsellor to him
during his residence in that city. Luther wrote to him on the
22d April. This is the oldest letter of the reformer, and it
bears the following address: "To John Braun, holy and venerable
priest of Christ and Mary." It is only in Luther's two earliest
letters that the name of Mary is found.
"God, who is glorious and holy in all his works," says the
candidate for the priesthood, "having most graciously
condescended to raise me up--me, a wretched and in all respects
unworthy sinner, and to call me by his sole and most free mercy
to his sublime ministry; I ought, in order to testify my
gratitude for such divine and magnificent goodness (as far at
least as mere dust and ashes can do it) to fulfil with my whole
heart the duties of the office intrusted to me."
At last the day arrived. The miner of Mansfeldt did not
fail to be present at his son's ordination. He gave him indeed
no unequivocal mark of his affection and of his generosity by
presenting him on this occasion with twenty florins.
The ceremony took place. Hieronymus, bishop of Brandenburg,
officiated. At the moment of conferring on Luther the power of
celebrating mass, he placed the chalice in his hands, and uttered
these solemn words, "Accipe potestatem sacrificandi pro vivis et
mortuis: receive the power of sacrificing for the quick and the
dead." Luther at that time listened calmly to these words, which
conferred on him the power of doing the work of the Son of God;
but he shuddered at them in after-years. "If the earth did not
then open and swallow us both up," said he, "it was owing to the
great patience and long-suffering of the Lord."
The father afterwards dined at the convent with his son, the
young priest's friends, and the monks, The conversation fell on
Martin's entrance into the monastery. The brothers loudly
extolled it as a most meritorious work; upon which the inflexible
John, turning to his son, asked him: "Have you not read in
Scripture, that you should obey your father and mother?" These
words struck Luther; they presented in quite a new aspect the
action that had brought him into the bosom of the convent, and
they long re-echoed in his heart.
Shortly after his ordination, Luther, by the advice of
Staupitz, made little excursions on foot into the neighboring
parishes and convents, either to divert his mind and give his
body the necessary exercise, or to accustom him to preaching.
The festival of Corpus Christi was to be celebrated with
great pomp at Eisleben. The vicar-general would be present, and
Luther repaired there also. He had still need of Staupitz, and
sought every opportunity of meeting this enlightened guide who
directed his soul into the path of life. The procession was
numerous and brilliant. Staupitz himself bore the consecrated
host, Luther following in his sacerdotal robes. The thought that
it was Jesus Christ himself whom the vicar-general carried, the
idea that the Saviour was there in person before him, suddenly
struck Luther's imagination, and filled him with such terror that
he could scarcely proceed. The perspiration fell drop by drop
from his face; he staggered, and thought he should die of anguish
and affright. At length the procession was over; the host, that
had awakened all the fears of the monk, was solemnly deposited in
the sanctuary; and Luther, finding himself alone with Staupitz,
fell into his arms and confessed his dread. Then the good vicar-
general, who had long known that gentle Saviour, who does not
break the bruised reed, said to him mildly: "It was not Jesus
Christ, my brother; he does not alarm; he gives consolation
only."
Luther was not destined to remain hidden in an obscure
convent. The time was come for his removal to a wider stage.
Staupitz, with whom he always remained in close communication,
saw clearly that the young monk's disposition was too active to
be confined with so narrow a circle. He spoke of him to the
Elector Frederick of Saxony: and this enlightened prince invited
Luther in 1508, probably about the end of the year, to become
professor at the university of Wittemberg. This was the field on
which he was to fight many hard battles. Luther felt that his
true vocation was there. He was requested to repair to his new
post with all speed: he replied to the call without delay, and
in the hurry of his removal he had not time to write to him whom
he styled his master and well-beloved father,--John Braun, curate
of Eisenach. He did so however a few months later. "My
departure was so hasty," said he, "that those with whom I was
living were almost ignorant of it. I am farther away, I confess:
but the better part of me remains with you." Luther had been
three years in the cloister at Erfurth.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 5
The University of Wittemberg--First Instructions--Biblical
Lectures--Sensation--Luther preaches at Wittemberg--The Old
Chapel--Impression produced by his Sermons.
In the year 1502, Frederick the Elector founded a new
university at Wittemberg. He declared in the charter confirming
the privileges of this high school, that he and his people would
look to it as to an oracle. At that time he had little thought
in how remarkable a manner this language would be verified. Two
men belonging to the opposition that had been formed against the
scholastic system,--Pollich of Mellerstadt, doctor of medicine,
law, and philosophy, and Staupitz--had had great influence in the
establishment of this academy. The university declared that it
selected St. Augustine for its patron,--a choice that was very
significant. This new institution, which possessed great
liberty, and which was considered as a court of final appeal in
all cases of difficulty, was admirably fitted to become the
cradle of the Reformation, and it powerfully contributed to the
development of Luther and of Luther's work.
On his arrival at Wittemberg, he repaired to the Augustine
convent, where a cell was allotted to him; for though a
professor, he did not cease to be a monk. He had been called to
teach physics and dialectics. In assigning him this duty, regard
had probably been paid to the philosophical studies he had
pursued at Erfurth, and to the degree of Master of Arts which he
had taken. Thus Luther, who hungered and thirsted after the Word
of God, was compelled to devote himself almost exclusively to the
study of the Aristotelian scholastic philosophy. He had need of
that bread of life which God gives to the world, and yet he must
occupy himself with human subtleties. What a restraint! and
what signs it called forth! "By God's grace, I am well," wrote
he to Braun, "except that I have to study philosophy with all my
might. From the first moment of my arrival at Wittemberg, I was
earnestly desirous of exchanging it for that of theology; but,"
added he, lest it should be supposed he meant the theology of the
day, "it is of a theology which seeks the kernel in the nut, the
wheat in the husk, the marrow in the bones, that I am speaking.
Be that as it may, God is God," continues he with that confidence
which was the soul of his life; "man is almost always mistaken in
his judgments; but this is our God. He will lead us with
goodness for ever and ever." The studies that Luther was then
obliged to pursue were of great service to him, in enabling him
in after-years to combat the errors of the schoolmen.
But he could not stop there. The desire of his heart was
about to be accomplished. That same power, which some years
before had driven Luther from the bar into a monastic life, was
now impelling him from philosophy towards the Bible. He
zealously applied himself to the acquisition of the ancient
languages, and particularly of Greek and Hebrew, in order to draw
knowledge and learning from the very springs whence they gushed
forth. He was all his life indefatigable in labor. A few months
after his arrival at the university, he solicited the degree of
bachelor of divinity. He obtained it at the end of March 1509,
with the particular summons to devote himself to biblical
theology,--ad Biblia.
Every day, at one in the afternoon, Luther was called to
lecture on the Bible: a precious hour both for the professor and
his pupils, and which led them deeper and deeper into the divine
meaning of those revelations so long lost to the people and to
the schools!
He began his course by explaining the Psalms, and thence
passed to the Epistle to the Romans. It was more particularly
while meditating on this portion of Scripture, that the light of
truth penetrated his heart. In the retirement of his quiet cell,
he used to consecrate whole hours to the study of the Divine
Word, this epistle of St. Paul lying open before him. On one
occasion, having reached the seventeenth verse of the first
chapter, he read this passage from the prophet Habakkuk: The
just shall live by faith. This precept struck him. There is
then for the just a life different from that of other men: and
this life is the gift of faith. This promise, which he received
into his heart, as if God himself had placed it there, unveils to
him the mystery of the christian life, and increases this life in
him. Years after, in the midst of his numerous occupations, he
imagined he still heard these words: The just shall live by
faith.
Luther's lectures thus prepared had little similarity with
what had been heard till then. It was not an eloquent
rhetorician or a pedantic schoolman that spoke; but a Christian
who had felt the power of revealed truths,--who drew them forth
from the Bible,--poured them out from the treasures of his heart,
--and presented them all full of life to his astonished hearers.
It was not the teaching of a man, but of God.
This entirely new method of expounding the truth made a
great noise; the news of it spread far and wide, and attracted to
the newly established university a crowd of youthful foreign
students. Even many professors attended Luther's lectures, and
among others Mellerstadt, frequently styled the light of the
world, first rector of the university, who already at Leipsic,
where he had been previously, had earnestly combated the
ridiculous instructions of scholasticism, had denied that "the
light created on the first day was Theology," and had maintained
that the study of literature should be the foundation of that
science. "This monk," said he, "will put all the doctors to
shame; he will bring in a new doctrine, and reform the whole
church; for he builds upon the Word of Christ, and no one in the
world can either resist or overthrow that Word, even should he
attack it will all the arms of philosophy, of the sophists,
Scotists, Albertists, Thomists, and with all the Tartaretus."
Staupitz, who was the instrument of God to develop all the
gifts and treasures hidden in Luther, requested him to preach in
the church of the Augustines. The young professor shrunk from
this proposal. He desired to confine himself to his academical
duties, he trembled at the thought of increasing them by those of
the ministry. In vain did Staupitz say solicit him: "No! no!"
replied he, "it is no slight thing to speak before men in the
place of God." What affecting humility in this great reformer of
the Church! Staupitz persisted; but the ingenious Luther, says
one of his biographers, found fifteen arguments, pretexts, and
evasions to defend himself against this invitation. At length,
the chief of the Augustines persevering in his attack, Luther
said: "Ah, doctor, by doing this you deprive me of life. I
shall not be able to hold out three months."--"Well! so be it in
God's name," replied the vicar-general, "for our Lord God has
also need on high of devoted and skilful men." Luther was forced
to yield.
In the middle of the square at Wittemberg stood an ancient
wooden chapel, thirty feet long and twenty wide, whose walls
propped up on all sides were falling into ruin. An old pulpit
made of planks, and three feet high, received the preacher. It
was in this wretched place that the preaching of the Reformation
began. It was God's will that that which was to restore his
glory should have the humblest beginnings. The foundations of
the new Augustine Church had just been laid, and in the meanwhile
this miserable place of worship was made use of. "This
building," adds Myconius, one of Luther's contemporaries, who
records these circumstances, "may well be compared to the stable
in which Christ was born. It was in this wretched enclosure that
God willed, so to speak, that his well-beloved Son should be born
a second time. Among those thousands of cathedrals and parish
churches with which the world is filled, there was not one at
that time which God chose for the glorious preaching of eternal
life."
Luther preaches: everything is striking in the new
minister. His expressive countenance, his noble air, his clear
and sonorous voice, captivate all his hearers. Before his time,
the majority of preachers had sought rather what might amuse
their congregation, than what would convert them. The great
seriousness that pervaded all Luther's sermons, and the joy with
which the knowledge of the Gospel had filled his heart, imparted
to his eloquence an authority, a warmth, and an unction that his
predecessors had not possessed. "Endowed with a ready and lively
genius," says one of his opponents, "with a good memory, and
employing his mother tongue with wonderful facility, Luther was
inferior to none of his contemporaries in eloquence. Speaking
from the pulpit, as if he were agitated by some violent emotion,
suiting the action to his words, he affected his hearers' minds
in a surprising manner, and carried them like a torrent wherever
he pleased. So much strength, grace, and eloquence are rarely
found in these children of the North."--"He had," says Bossuet,
"a lively and impetuous eloquence that charmed and led away the
people."
Soon the little chapel could not hold the hearers who
crowded to it. The council of Wittemberg then nominated Luther
their chaplain, and invited him to preach in the city church.
The impression he there produced was greater still. The energy
of his genius, the eloquence of his style, and the excellency of
the doctrines that he proclaimed, equally astonished his hearers.
His reputation extended far and wide, and Frederick the Wise
himself came once to Wittemberg to hear him.
This was the beginning of a new life for Luther. The
slothfulness of the cloister had been succeeded by great
activity. Freedom, labor, the earnest and constant action to
which he could now devote himself at Wittemberg, succeeded in re-
establishing harmony and peace within him. Now he was in his
place, and the work of God was soon to display its majestic
progress.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 6
Journey to Rome--Convent on the Po--Sickness at Bologna--
Recollections of Rome--Julius II--Superstitious Devotion--
Profanity of the Clergy--Conversations--Roman Scandals--Biblical
Studies--Pilate's Staircase--Effects on Luther's Faith and on the
Reformation--Gate of Paradise--Luther's Confession.
Luther was teaching both in the academical hall and in the
church, when he was interrupted in his labors. In 1510, or
according to others in 1511 or 1512, he was sent to Rome. Seven
convents of his order were at variance on certain points with the
vicar-general. The acuteness of Luther's mind, his powerful
language, and his talents for discussion, were the cause of his
selection as agent for these seven monasteries before the pope.
This divine dispensation was necessary for Luther. It was
requisite that he should know Rome. Full of the prejudices and
delusions of the cloister, he had always imagined it to be the
abode of sanctity.
He set out and crossed the Alps. But he had scarcely
descended into the plains of the rich and voluptuous Italy,
before he found at every step subjects of astonishment and
scandal. The poor German monk was entertained in a wealthy
convent of the Benedictines on the banks of the Po, in Lombardy.
The revenues of this monastery amounted to 36,000 ducats; 12,000
were devoted to the table, 12,000 were set apart for the
buildings, and the remainder for the wants of the monks. The
splendor of the apartments, the richness of their dress, and the
delicacy of their food, confounded Luther. Marble, silk, luxury
in all its forms--what a novel sight for the humble brother of
the poor convent of Wittemberg! He was astonished and was
silent; but when Friday came, what was his surprise at seeing the
Benedictine table groaning under a load of meat. Upon this he
resolved to speak. "The Church and the pope," said he, "forbid
such things." The Benedictines were irritated at this reprimand
of the unpolished German. But Luther having persisted, and
perhaps threatened to make their irregularities known, some
thought the simplest course would be to get rid of their
importunate guest. The porter of the convent forewarned him of
the danger he incurred by a longer stay. He accordingly quitted
this epicurean monastery, and reached Bologna, where he fell
dangerously ill. Some have attributed this to the effects of
poison; but it is more reasonable to suppose that the change of
diet affected the frugal monk of Wittemberg, whose usual food was
bread and herrings. This sickness was not to be unto death, but
to the glory of God. He again relapsed into the sorrow and
dejection so natural to him. To die thus, far from Germany,
under this burning sky, and in a foreign land--what a sad fate.
The distress of mind that he had felt at Erfurth returned with
fresh force. The sense of his sinfulness troubled him; the
prospect of Gods judgment filled him with dread. But at the very
moment that these terrors had reached their highest pitch, the
words of St. Paul, that had already struck him at Wittemberg, The
just shall live by faith, recurred forcibly to his memory, and
enlightened his soul like a ray from heaven. Thus restored and
comforted, he soon regained his health, and resumed his journey
towards Rome, expecting to find there a very different manner of
life from that of the Lombard convents, and impatient of efface,
by the sight of Roman holiness, the melancholy impressions left
on his mind by his sojourn on the banks of the Po.
At length, after a toilsome journey under a burning Italian
sun, at the beginning of summer, he drew near the seven-hilled
city. His heart was moved within him: his eyes sought after the
queen of the world and of the Church. As soon as he discovered
the eternal city in the distance,--the city of St. Peter and St.
Paul,--the metropolis of Catholicism,--he fell on his knees,
exclaiming, "Holy Rome, I salute thee!"
Luther is in Rome: the Wittemberg professor stands in the
midst of the eloquent ruins of consular and imperial Rome--of the
Rome of so many martyrs and confessors of Jesus Christ. Here had
lived that Plautus and that Virgil whose works he had carried
with him into the cloister, and all those great men at whose
history his heart had so often beat with emotion. He beholds
their statues,--the ruins of the monuments that bear witness to
their glory. But all that glory--all that power has fled: his
feet trample on their dust. At each step he calls to mind the
sad presentiments of Scipio shedding tears as he looked upon the
ruins--the burning palaces and tottering walls of Carthage, and
exclaimed, "Thus will it one day be with Rome!" "And in truth,"
said Luther, "the Rome of the Scipios and Caesars has become a
corpse. There are such heaps of rubbish that the foundations of
the houses are now where once stood the roofs. It is there,"
added he, as he threw a melancholy glance over these ruins, "it
is there that once the riches and the treasures of the world were
gathered together." All these fragments, against which his feet
stumble at every step, proclaim to Luther within the very walls
of Rome, that what is strongest in the eyes of man may be easily
destroyed by the breath of the Lord.
But with these profane ashes are mingled other and holier
ones: he recalls them to mind. The burial-place of the martyrs
is not far from that of the generals of Rome and of her
conquerors. Christian Rome with its sufferings has more power
over the heart of the Saxon monk than pagan Rome with all its
glory. Here that letter arrived in which Paul wrote, The just
shall live by faith. He is not far from Appii Forum and the
Three Taverns. Here is the house of Narcissus--there the palace
of Caesar, where the Lord delivered the Apostle from the jaws of
the lion. Oh, how these recollections strengthen the heart of
the monk of Wittemberg!
But Rome at this time presented a very different aspect.
The warlike Julius II filled the papal chair, and not Leo X, as
some distinguished German historians have said, doubtless through
inattention. Luther has often related a trait in the character
of this pope. When the news reached him that his army had been
defeated by the French before Ravenna, he was repeating his daily
prayers: he flung away the book, exclaiming with a terrible
oath: "And thou too art become a Frenchman......It is thus thou
dost protect thy Church?......" Then turning in the direction of
the country to whose arms he thought to have recourse, he added:
"Saint Switzer, pray for us!" Ignorance, levity, and dissolute
manners, a profane spirit, a contempt for all that is sacred, a
scandalous traffic in divine things--such was the spectacle
afforded by this unhappy city. Yet the pious monk remained for
some time longer in his delusions.
Having arrived about the period of the feast of St. John, he
heard the Romans repeating around him a proverb current among
them: "Happy the mother whose son performs mass on St. John's
eve!"--"Oh, how should I rejoice to render my mother happy!" said
Luther to himself. Margaret's pious son endeavoured to repeat a
mass on that day; but he could not, the throng was too great.
Fervent and meek, he visited all the churches and chapels;
he believed in all the falsehoods that were told him; he devoutly
performed all the holy practices that were required there, happy
in being able to execute so many good works from which his
fellow-countrymen were debarred. "Oh! how I regret," said the
pious German to himself, "that my father and mother are still
alive! What pleasure I should have in delivering them from the
fire of purgatory by my masses, my prayers, and by so many other
admirable works!" He had found the light; but the darkness was
far from being entirely expelled from his understanding. His
heart was converted; his mind was not yet enlightened: he had
faith and love, but he wanted knowledge. It was no trifling
matter to emerge from that thick night which had covered the
earth for so many centuries.
Luther several times repeated mass at Rome. He officiated
with all the unction and dignity that such an action appeared to
him to require. But what affliction seized the heart of the
Saxon monk at witnessing the sad and profane mechanism of the
Roman priests, as they celebrated the sacrament of the altar!
These on their part laughed at his simplicity. On day when he
was officiating he found that the priests at an adjoining altar
had already repeated seven masses before he had finished one.
"Quick, quick!" cried one of them, "send our Lady back her Son;"
making an impious allusion to the transubstantiation of the bread
into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. At another time Luther
had only just reached the Gospel, when the priest at his side had
already terminated the mass. "Passa, passa!" cried the latter
to him, "make haste! have done with it at once."
His astonishment was still greater, when he found in the
dignitaries of the papacy what he had already observed in the
inferior clergy. He had hoped better things of them.
It was the fashion at the papal court to attack
Christianity, and you could not pass for a well-bred man, unless
you entertained some erroneous or heretical opinion on the
doctrines of the Church. They had endeavoured to convince
Erasmus, by means of certain extracts from Pliny, that there was
no difference between the souls of men and of beasts; and some of
the pope's youthful courtiers maintained that the orthodox faith
was the result of the crafty devices of a few saints.
Luther's quality of envoy from the German Augustines
procured him invitations to numerous meetings of distinguished
ecclesiastics. One day, in particular, he was at table with
several prelates, who displayed openly before him their
buffoonery and impious conversation, and did not scruple to utter
in his presence a thousand mockeries, thinking, no doubt, that he
was of the same mind as themselves. Among other things, they
related before the monk, laughing and priding themselves upon it,
how, when they were repeating mass at the altar, instead of the
sacramental words that were to transform the bread and wine into
the flesh and blood of our Saviour, they pronounced over the
elements this derisive expression: Panis es, et panis manebis;
vinum es, et vinum manebis. Then, continued they, we elevate the
host, and all the people bow down and worship it. Luther could
hardly believe his ears. His disposition, although full of
animation and even gaiety in the society of friends, was
remarkably serious whenever sacred matters were concerned. The
mockeries of Rome were a stumbling block to him. "I was," said
he, "a thoughtful and pious young monk. Such language grieved me
bitterly. If 'tis thus they speak at Rome, freely and publicly
at the dinner table, thought I to myself, what would it be if
their actions corresponded to their words, and if all--pope,
cardinals, and courtiers--thus repeat the mass! And how they
must have deceived me, who have heard them read devoutly so great
a number!"
Luther often mixed with the monks and citizens of Rome. If
some few extolled the pope and his party, the majority gave a
free course to their complaints and to their sarcasms. What
stories had they not to tell about the reigning pope, or
Alexander VI, or about so many others! One day his Roman friends
related how Caesar Borgia, having fled from Rome, was taken in
Spain. As they were going to try him, he called for arc, and
asked for a confessor to visit him in his prison. A monk was
sent to him, whom he slew, put on his hood, and escaped. "I
heard that at Rome; and it is a positive fact," says Luther.
Another day, passing down a wide street leading to St. Peter's,
he halted in astonishment before a stone statue, representing a
pope under the figure of a woman, holding a sceptre, clothed in
the papal mantle, and carrying a child in her arms. It is a
young woman of Mentz, he was told, whom the cardinals elected
pope, and who was delivered of a child opposite this place. No
pope, therefore, passes along that street. "I am surprised,"
says Luther, that the popes allow such a statue to remain."
Luther had thought to find the edifice of the Church
encompassed with splendor and strength, but its doors were broken
down, and the walls damaged by fire. He witnessed the desolation
of the sanctuary, and drew back with horror. All his dreams had
been of holiness,--he had discovered nought but profanation.
The disorders without the churches were not less shocking to
him. "The police of Rome is very strict and severe," said he.
"The judge or captain patrols the city every night on horseback
with three hundred followers; he arrests every one that is found
in the streets: if they meet an armed man, he is hung, or thrown
into the Tiber. And yet the city is filled with disorder and
murder; whilst in those places where the Word of God is preached
uprightly and in purity, peace and order prevail, without calling
for the severity of the law."--"No one can imagine what sins and
infamous actions are committed in Rome," said he at another time;
"they must be seen and heard to be believed. Thus, they are in
the habit of saying, If there is a hell, Rome is built over it:
it is an abyss whence issues every kind of sin."
This spectacle made a deep impression even then upon
Luther's mind; it was increased erelong. "The nearer we approach
Rome, the greater number of bad Christians we meet with," said
he, many years after. "There is a vulgar proverb, that he who
goes to Rome the first time, looks out for a knave; the second
time, he finds him; and the third, he brings him away with him.
But people are now become so clever, that they make these three
journeys in one." Machiavelli, one of the most profound geniuses
of Italy, but also one of unenviable notoriety, who was living at
Florence when Luther passed through that city on his way to Rome,
has made the same remark: "The strongest symptom," said he, "of
the approaching ruin of Christianity (by which he means Roman-
catholicism) is, that the nearer people approach the capital of
Christendom, the less christian spirit is found in them. The
scandalous examples and the crimes of the court of Rome are the
cause why Italy has lost every principle of piety and all
religious feeling. We Italians," continues this great historian,
"are indebted principally to the Church and the priests for
having become impious and immoral." Luther, somewhat later, was
sensible of the very great importance of this journey. "If they
would give me one hundred thousand florins," said he, "I would
not have missed seeing Rome!"
This visit was also very advantageous to him in regard to
learning. Like Reuchlin, Luther took advantage of his residence
in Italy to penetrate deeper into the meaning of the Holy
Scriptures. He took lessons in Hebrew from a celebrated rabbi,
named Elias Levita. It was at Rome that he partly acquired that
knowledge of the Divine Word, under the attacks of which Rome was
destined to fall.
But this journey was most important to Luther in another
respect. Not only was the veil withdrawn, and the sardonic
sneer, the mocking incredulity which lay concealed behind the
Romish superstitions revealed to the future reformer, but the
living faith that God had implanted in him was there powerfully
strengthened.
We have seen how he at first gave himself up to all the vain
observances which the Church enjoined for the expiation of sin.
One day, among others, wishing to obtain an indulgence promised
by the pope to all who should ascend on their knees what is
called Pilate's Staircase, the poor Saxon monk was humbly
creeping up those steps, which he was told had been miraculously
transported from Jerusalem to Rome. But while he was performing
this meritorious act, he thought he heard a voice of thunder
crying from the bottom of his heart, as at Wittemberg and
Bologna, The just shall live by faith. These words, that twice
before had struck him like the voice of an angel from God,
resounded unceasingly and powerfully within him. He rises in
amazement from the steps up which he was dragging his body: he
shudders at himself; he is ashamed of seeing to what a depth
superstition had plunged him. He flies far from the scene of his
folly.
This powerful text has a mysterious influence on the life of
Luther. It was a creative sentence both for the reformer and for
the Reformation. It was in these words God then said, Let there
be light! and there was light.
It is frequently necessary for a truth to be presented many
times to our minds in order that it may produce the due effect.
Luther had profoundly studied the Epistle to the Romans, and yet
the doctrine of justification by faith there taught had never
appeared so clear to him. Now he comprehends that righteousness
which alone can stand before God; now he receives for himself
from the hand of Christ that obedience which God of his free gift
imputes to the sinner, as soon as he raises his eyes with
humility to the crucified Son of Man. This was the decisive
epoch of Luther's inner life. That faith which had saved him
from the terrors of death, became the very soul of his theology,
his stronghold in every danger; the principle which gave energy
to his preaching and strength to his charity; the foundation of
his peace, the encouragement to his labors, his comfort in the
life and in the death.
But this great doctrine of a salvation proceeding from God
and not from man, was not only the power of God to save Luther's
soul; it became in a still greater degree the power of God to
reform the Church:--an effectual weapon wielded by the apostles,-
-a weapon too long neglected, but taken at last, in all its
primitive brightness, from the arsenal of the omnipotent God. At
the very moment when Luther uprose from his knees on Pilate's
Staircase, in agitation and amazement at those words which Paul
had addressed fifteen centuries before to the inhabitants of that
metropolis,--Truth, till then a melancholy captive, and fettered
in the Church, uprose also to fall no more.
We should here listen to what Luther himself says on the
matter. "Although I was a holy and blameless monk, my conscience
was nevertheless full of trouble and anguish. I could not endure
those words--the righteousness of God. I had no love for that
holy and just God who punishes sinners. I was filled with secret
anger against him: I hated him, because, not content with
frightening by the law and the miseries of life us wretched
sinners, already ruined by original sin, he still further
increased our tortures by the Gospel......But when, by the Spirit
of God, I understood these words,--when I learnt how the
justification of the sinner proceeds from the free mercy of our
Lord through faith,......then I felt born again like a new man; I
entered through the open doors into the very paradise of God.
Henceforward, also, I saw the beloved and Holy Scriptures with
other eyes. I perused the Bible,--I brought together a great
number of passages that taught me the nature of God's work. And
as previously I had detested with all my heart these words,--The
righteousness of God, I began from that hour to value them and to
love them, as the sweetest and most consoling words in the Bible.
In very truth, this language of St. Paul was to me the true gate
of Paradise."
Thus when he was called on solemn occasions to confess this
doctrine, Luther always recovered his enthusiasm and rough
energy. "I see," observed he at an important moment, "that the
devil is continually attacking this fundamental article by means
of his doctors, and that in this respect he can never cease or
take any repose. Well then, I, Doctor Martin Luther, unworthy
herald of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, confess this
article, that faith alone without works justifies before God; and
I declare that it shall stand and remain for ever in despite of
the emperor of the Tartars, the emperor of the Persians,--in
spite of the pope and all the cardinals, with the bishops,
priests, monks, and nuns,--in spite of kings, princes, and
nobles,--and in spite of all the world and of the devils
themselves; and that if they endeavour to fight against this
truth, they will draw the fires of hell upon their heads. This
is the true and holy Gospel, and the declaration of me, Doctor
Luther, according to the teaching of the Holy Ghost......There is
no one," continues he, "who has died for our sins, if not Jesus
Christ the Son of God. I say it once again, should all the world
and all the devils tear each other to pieces and burst with rage,
that it is not the less true. And if it is He alone that taketh
away our sins, it cannot be ourselves and our own works. But
good works follow redemption, as the fruit grows on the tree.
That is our doctrine--that is what is taught by the Holy Ghost
and by all the communion of saints. We hold fast to it in the
name of God. Amen!"
It was thus Luther found what had been overlooked, at least
to a certain degree, by all doctors and reformers, even by the
most illustrious of them. It was in Rome that God gave him this
clear view of the fundamental doctrine of Christianity. He had
gone to the city of the pontiffs for the solution of certain
difficulties concerning a monastic order: he brought away from
it in his heart the salvation of the Church.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 7
Luther Returns to Wittemberg--Made Doctor of Divinity--Carlstadt-
-Luther's Oath--Principle of the Reformation--Luther's Courage--
Early Views of Reformation--The Schoolmen--Spalatin--Reuchlin's
Quarrel with the Monks.
Luther quitted Rome, and returned to Wittemberg: his heart
was full of sorrow and indignation. Turning his eyes with
disgust from the pontifical city, he directed them with hope to
the Holy Scriptures--to that new life which the Word of God
seemed then to promise to the world. This Word increased in his
heart by all that the Church lost. He separated from the one to
cling to the other. The whole of the Reformation was in that one
movement. It set God in the place of the priest.
Staupitz and the elector did not lose sight of the monk whom
they had called to the university of Wittemberg. It appears as
if the vicar-general had a presentiment of the work that was to
be done in the world, and that, finding it too difficult for
himself, he wished to urge Luther towards it. There is nothing
more remarkable,--nothing, perhaps, more mysterious than this
person, who is seen everywhere urging forward Luther in the path
where God calls him, and then going to end his days sadly in a
cloister. The preaching of the young professor had made a deep
impression on the prince; he had admired the strength of his
understanding, the forcibleness of his eloquence, and the
excellency of the matters that he expounded. The elector and his
friend, desirous of advancing a man of such great promise,
resolved that he should take the high degree of doctor of
divinity. Staupitz repaired to the convent, and took Luther into
the garden, where, alone with him under a tree that Luther in
after-years delighted to point out to his disciples, the
venerable father said to him: "My friend, you must now become
Doctor of the Holy Scriptures." Luther shrunk at the very
thought: this eminent honor startled him. "Seek a more worthy
person," replied he. "As for me, I cannot consent to it." The
vicar-general persisted: "Our Lord God has much to do in the
Church: he has need at this time of young and vigorous doctors."
These words, adds Melancthon, were perhaps said playfully, yet
the event corresponded with them; for generally many omens
precede all great revolutions. It is not necessary to suppose
that Melancthon here speaks of miraculous prophecies. The most
incredulous age--that which preceded the present one--saw an
exemplification of this remark. How many presages, without there
being any thing miraculous in them, announced the revolution in
which it closed!
"But I am weak and sickly," replied Luther. "I have not
long to live. Look out for some strong man."--"The Lord has work
in heaven as well as on earth," replied the vicar-general: "dead
or alive, He has need of you in his council."
"It is the Holy Ghost alone that can make a doctor of
divinity," then urged the monk still more alarmed.--"Do what your
convent requires," said Staupitz, "and what I, your vicar-
general, command; for you have promised to obey us."--"But my
poverty," resumed the brother: "I have no means of defraying the
expenses incidental to such a promotion."--"Do not be uneasy
about that," replied his friend: "the prince has done you the
favour to take all the charges upon himself." Pressed on every
side, Luther thought it his duty to give way.
It was about the end of the summer of 1512 that Luther set
out for Leipsic to receive from the elector's treasurers the
money necessary for his promotion. But according to court
custom, the money did not arrive. The brother growing impatient
wished to depart, but monastic obedience detained him. At
length, on the 4th October, he received fifty florins from
Pfeffinger and John Doltzig. In the receipt which he gave them,
he employs no other title than that of monk. "I, Martin," wrote
he, "brother of the order of Hermits." Luther hastened to return
to Wittemberg.
Andrew Bodenstein of the city of Carlstadt was at that time
dean of the theological faculty, and it is by the name of
Carlstadt that this doctor is generally known. He was also
called the A.B.C. Melancthon first gave him this designation on
account of the three initials of his name. Bodenstein acquired
in his native country the first elements of learning. He was of
a serious and gloomy character, perhaps inclined to jealousy, and
of a restless temper, but full of desire for knowledge, and of
great capacity. He frequented several universities to augment
his stores of learning, and studied theology at Rome. On his
return from Italy, he settled at Wittemberg, and became doctor of
divinity. "At this time," he said afterwards, "I had not yet
read the Holy Scriptures." This remark gives us a very correct
idea of what theology then was. Carlstadt, besides his functions
of professor, was canon and archdeacon. Such was the man who in
after-years was destined to create a schism in the Reformation.
At this time he saw in Luther only an inferior; but the Augustine
erelong became an object of jealousy to him. "I will not be less
great than Luther," said he one day. Very far from anticipating
at that period the great destinies of the young professor,
Carlstadt conferred on his future rival the highest dignity of
the university.
On the 18th October 1512, Luther was received licentiate in
divinity, and took the following oath: "I swear to defend the
evangelical truth with all my might." On the day following,
Bodenstein solemnly conferred on him, in the presence of a
numerous assembly, the insignia of doctor of divinity. He was
made a biblical doctor, and not a doctor of sentences; and was
thus called to devote himself to the study of the Bible, and not
to that of human traditions. He then pledged himself by an oath,
as he himself related, to his well-beloved and Holy Scriptures.
He promised to preach them faithfully, to teach them with purity,
to study them all his life, and to defend them, both in
disputation and in writing, against all false teachers, so far as
God should give him ability.
This solemn oath was Luther's call to the Reformation. By
imposing on his conscience the holy obligation of searching
freely and boldly proclaiming the Christian truth, this oath
raised the new doctor above the narrow limits to which his
monastic vow would perhaps have confined him. Called by the
university, by his sovereign, in the name of the imperial majesty
and of the see of Rome itself, and bound before God by the most
solemn oath, he became from that hour the most intrepid herald of
the Word of Life. On that memorable day Luther was armed
champion of the Bible.
We may accordingly look upon this oath, sworn to the Holy
Scriptures, as one of the causes of the revival of the Church.
The sole and infallible authority of the Word of God was the
primary and fundamental principle of the Reformation. Every
reform in detail that was afterwards carried out in the doctrine,
morals, or government of the Church, and in its worship, was but
a consequence of this first principle. In these days we can
scarcely imagine the sensation produced by this elementary and
simple but long-neglected truth. A few men of more enlarged
views than the common, alone foresaw its immense consequences.
Erelong the courageous voices of all the Reformers proclaimed
this mighty principle, at the sound of which Rome shall crumble
into dust: "The Christians receive no other doctrines than those
founded on the express words of Jesus Christ, of the Apostles,
and of the Prophets. No man, no assembly of doctors, has a right
to prescribe new ones."
Luther's position was changed. The summons that he had
received became to the reformer as one of those extraordinary
calls which the Lord addressed to the prophets under the Old
Covenant, and to the apostles under the New. The solemn
engagement that he made produced so deep an impression upon his
soul that the recollection of this oath was sufficient, in after-
years, to console him in the midst of the greatest dangers and of
the fiercest conflicts. And when he saw all Europe agitated and
shaken by the Word that he had proclaimed; when the accusations
of Rome, the reproaches of many pious men, the doubts and fears
of his own too sensible heart, seemed likely to make him
hesitate, fear, and fall into despair,--he called to mind the
oath that he had taken, and remained steadfast, calm, and full of
joy. "I have gone forward in the Lord's name," said he in a
critical moment, "and I have placed myself in his hands. His
will be done! Who prayed him to make me a doctor?..If it was He
who created me such, let him support me; or else if he repent of
what he has done, let him deprive me of my office......This
tribulation, therefore, alarms me not. I seek one thing only,
which is to preserve the favor of God in all that he has called
me to do with him." At another time he said: "He who undertakes
any thing without a Divine call, seeks his own glory. But I,
Doctor Martin Luther, was forced to become a doctor. Popery
desired to stop me in the performance of my duty: but you see
what has happened to it, and worse still will befall it. They
cannot defend themselves against me. I am determined, in God's
name, to tread upon the lions, to trample dragons and serpents
under foot. This will begin during my life, and will be
accomplished after my death.
From the period of his oath, Luther no longer sought the
truth for himself alone: he sought it also for the Church.
Still full of the recollections of Rome, he saw confusedly before
him a path in which he had promised to walk with all the energy
of his soul. The spiritual life that had hitherto been
manifested only within him, now extended itself without. This
was the third epoch of his development. His entrance into the
cloister had turned his thoughts towards God; the knowledge of
the remission of sins and of the righteousness of faith had
emancipated his soul; his doctor's oath gave him that baptism of
fire by which he became a reformer of the Church.
His ideas were soon directed in a general manner towards the
Reformation. In an address that he had written, as it would
seem, to be delivered by the provost of Lietzkau at the Lateran
council, he declared that the corruption of the world originated
in the priests' teaching so many fables and traditions, instead
of preaching the pure Word of God. The Word of Life, in his
view, alone had the power of effecting the spiritual regeneration
of man. Thus then already he made the salvation of the world
depend upon the re-establishment of sound doctrine, and not upon
a mere reformation of manners. Yet Luther was not entirely
consistent with himself; he still entertained contradictory
opinions: but a spirit of power beamed from all his writings; he
courageously broke the bonds with which the systems of the
schools had fettered the thoughts of men; he everywhere passed
beyond the limits within which previous ages had so closely
confined him, and opened up new paths. God was with him.
The first adversaries that he attacked were those famous
schoolmen, whom he had himself so much studied, and who then
reigned supreme in all the academies. He accused them of
Pelagianism, and forcibly inveighing against Aristotle, the
father of the schools, and against Thomas Aquinas, he undertook
to hurl them both from the throne whence they governed, the one
philosophy, and the other theology.
"Aristotle, Porphyry, the sententiary divines (the
schoolmen)," he wrote to Lange, "are useless studies in our days.
I desire nothing more earnestly than to unveil to the world that
comedian who has deceived the Church by assuming a Greek mask,
and to show his deformity to all." In every public discussion he
was heard repeating: "The writings of the apostles and prophets
are surer and more sublime than all the sophisms and all the
divinity of the schools." Such language was new, but men
gradually became used to it. About a year after he was able to
write with exultation: "God is at work. Our theology and St.
Augustine advance admirably and prevail in our university.
Aristotle is declining: he is tottering towards his eternal ruin
that is near at hand. The lectures on the Sentences produce
nothing but weariness. No one can hope for hearers, unless he
professes the Biblical theology." Happy the university of which
such testimony can be given!
At the same time that Luther was attacking Aristotle, he
took the side of Erasmus and Reuchlin against their enemies. He
entered into communication with these great men and with other
scholars, such as Pirckheimer, Mutianus, and Hutten, who belonged
more or less to the same party. He also, about this period,
formed another friendship that was of great importance through
the whole course of his life.
There was at that time at the elector's court a person
remarkable for his wisdom and his candour: this was George
Spalatin. He was born at Spalatus or Spalt in the bishopric of
Eichstadt, and had been originally curate of the village of
Hohenkirch, near the Thuringian forests. He was afterwards
chosen by Frederick the Wise to be his secretary, chaplain, and
tutor to his nephew, John Frederick, who was one day to wear the
electoral crown. Spalatin was a simple-hearted man in the midst
of the court: he appeared timid in the presence of great events;
circumspect and prudent, like his master, before the ardent
Luther, with whom he corresponded daily. Like Staupitz, he was
better suited for peaceful times. Such men are necessary: they
are like those delicate substances in which jewels and crystal
are wrapped to secure them from the injuries of transport. They
seem useless; and yet without them all these precious objects
would be broken and lost. Spalatin was not a man to effect great
undertakings; but he faithfully and noiselessly performed the
task imposed upon him. He was at first one of the principal aids
of his master in collecting those relics of saints, of which
Frederick was so long a great admirer. But he, as well as the
prince, turned by degrees towards the truth. The faith, which
then reappeared in the Church, did not lay such violent hold upon
him as upon Luther: it guided him by slower methods. He became
Luther's friend at court; the minister through whom passed all
matters between the Church and the State. The elector honored
Spalatin with great intimacy: they always travelled together in
the same carriage. Nevertheless the atmosphere of the court
oppressed the good chaplain: he was affected by profound
melancholy; he could have desired to quit all these honors, and
become once more a simple pastor in the forests of Thuringia.
But Luther consoled him, and exhorted him to remain firm at his
post. Spalatin acquired general esteem: princes and learned men
showed him the most sincere regard. Erasmus used to say, "I
inscribe Spalatin's name not only among those of my principal
friends, but still further among those of my most honored
protectors; and that, not upon paper, but on my heart."
Reuchlin's quarrel with the monks was then making a great
noise in Germany. The most pious men were often undecided what
part they should take; for the monks were eager to destroy the
Hebrew books in which blasphemies against Christ were to be
found. The elector commissioned his chaplain to consult the
doctor of Wittemberg on this matter, as his reputation was
already great. Here is Luther's answer: it is the first letter
he addressed to the court-preacher:--
"What shall I say? These monks pretend to cast out
Beelzebub, but it is not by the finger of God. I cease not from
groaning and lamenting over it. We Christians are beginning to
be wise outwardly, and mad inwardly. There are in every part of
our Jerusalem blasphemies a hundred times worse than those of the
Jews, and all there are filled with spiritual idols. It is our
duty with holy zeal to carry out and destroy these internal
enemies. But we neglect that which is most urgent; and the devil
himself persuades us to abandon what belongs to us, at the same
time that he prevents us from correcting what belongs to others."
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 8
Faith--Popular Declamations--Academic Teaching--Luther's Purity
of Life--German Theology or Mysticism--The Monk Spenlein--
Justification by Faith--Luther on Erasmus--Faith and Works--
Erasmus--Necessity of Works--Luther's Charity.
Luther did not lose himself in this quarrel. A living faith
in Christ filled his heart and his life. "Within my heart," said
he, "reigns alone (and it ought thus to reign alone) faith in my
Lord Jesus Christ, who is the beginning, middle, and end of all
the thoughts that occupy my mind by day and night."
All his hearers listened with admiration as he spoke,
whether from the professor's chair or from the pulpit, of that
faith in Jesus Christ. His teaching diffused great light. Men
were astonished that they had not earlier acknowledged truths
that appeared so evident in his mouth. "The desire of self-
justification," said he, "is the cause of all the distresses of
the heart, But he who receives Jesus Christ as a Saviour, enjoys
peace; and not only peace, but purity of heart. All
sanctification of the heart is a fruit of faith. For faith is a
divine work in us, which changes us and gives us a new birth,
emanating from God himself. It kills the old Adam in us; and, by
the Holy Ghost which is communicated to us, it gives us a new
heart and makes us new men. It is not by empty speculations," he
again exclaimed, "but by this practical method, that we can
obtain a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ."
It was at this time that Luther preached those discourses on
the Ten Commandments that have come down to us under the title of
Popular Declamations. They contain errors no doubt; Luther
became enlightened only be degrees. "The path of the just is as
the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect
day." But what truth, simplicity, and eloquence are found in
these discourses! How well can we understand the effect that the
new preacher must have produced upon his audience and upon his
age! We will quote but one passage taken from the beginning.
Luther ascends the pulpit of Wittemberg, and reads these
words: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me" (Exod. xx. 3).
Then turning to the people who crowded the sanctuary, he says,
"All the sons of Adam are idolaters, and have sinned against this
first commandment."
Doubtless this strange assertion startled his hearers. He
proceeds to justify it, and the speaker continues: "There are
two kinds of idolatry--one external, the other internal.
"The external, in which man bows down to wood and stone, to
beasts, and to the heavenly host.
"The internal, in which man, fearful of punishment or
seeking his own pleasure, does not worship the creature, but
loves him in his heart, and trusts in him......
"What kind of religion is this? You do not bend the knee
before riches and honors, but you offer them your heart, the
noblest portion of yourselves......Alas! you worship God in
body, but the creature in spirit.
"This idolatry prevails in every man until he is healed by
the free gift of the faith that is in Christ Jesus.
"And how shall this cure be accomplished?
"Listen. Faith in Christ takes away from you all trust in
your own wisdom, righteousness, and strength; it teaches you that
if Christ had not died for you, and had not thus saved you,
neither you nor any other creature would have been able to do it.
Then you learn to despise all those things that are unavailing to
you.
"Nothing now remains to you but Jesus Christ--Christ alone,-
-Christ all-sufficient for your soul. Hoping for nothing from
any creature, you have only Christ, from whom you hope for
everything, and whom you love above everything.
"Now Christ is the one, sole, and true God. When you have
him for you God, you have no other gods."
It is in this manner Luther shows how the soul is brought
back to God, his sovereign good, by the Gospel, according to the
words of Jesus Christ: I am the way; no man cometh unto the
Father but by me. The man who speaks thus to his age aims at
something more than the correction of a few abuses; he is earnest
above all things to establish true religion. His work is not
merely negative; it is primarily positive.
Luther afterwards turns his discourse against the
superstitions which then filled Christendom;--the signs and
mysterious characters, the observance of certain days and months,
familiar spirits, phantoms, the influence of the stars,
witchcraft, metamorphoses, incubi and succubi, the patronage of
saints, &c. &c. &c.; one after another he attacks these idols,
and with vigorous arm overthrows all these false gods.
But it was particularly in his lecture-room, before an
enlightened and youthful audience, hungering for the truth, that
he displays all the treasures of God's Word. "He explained
Scripture in such a manner," says his illustrious friend
Melancthon, "that, in the judgment of all pious and well-informed
men, it was as if a new morn had risen upon the doctrine after a
long night of darkness. He showed the difference that existed
between the Law and the Gospel. He refuted the then prevalent
error of the churches and of the schools, that men by their works
merit the remission of sins, and become righteous before God by
an outward discipline. He thus led men's hearts back to the Son
of God. Like John the Baptist, he pointed to the Lamb of God
that has taken away the sins of the world; he explained how sin
is freely pardoned on account of the Son of God, and that man
receives this blessing through faith. He made no change in the
ceremonies. On the contrary, the established discipline had not
in his order a more faithful observer and defender. But he
endeavoured more and more to make all understand these grand and
essential doctrines of conversion, of the remission of sins, of
faith, and of the true consolation that is to be found in the
cross. Pious minds were struck and penetrated by the sweetness
of this doctrine; the learned received it with joy. One might
have said that Christ, the apostles, and the prophets were now
issuing from the obscurity of some impure dungeon."
The firmness with which Luther relied on the Holy Scriptures
imparted great authority to his teaching. But other
circumstances added still more to his strength. In him every
action of his life corresponded with his words. It was known
that these discourses did not proceed merely from his lips: they
had their source in his heart, and were practiced in all his
works. And when, somewhat later, the Reformation burst forth,
many influential men, who saw with regret these divisions in the
Church, won over beforehand by the holiness of the reformer's
life and by the beauty of his genius, not only did not oppose
him, but, further still, embraced that doctrine to which he gave
testimony by his works. The more men loved christian virtues,
the more they inclined to the reformer. All honest divines were
in his favor. This is what was said by those who knew him, and
particularly by the wisest man of his age, Melancthon, and by
Erasmus, the illustrious opponent of Luther. Envy and prejudice
have dared to speak of his disorderly life. Wittemberg was
changed by this preaching of faith, and that city became the
focus of a light that was soon to illumine all Germany, and to
shine on all the Church.
It was in 1516 that Luther published the work of an
anonymous mystic theologian (probably Ebland, priest at
Frankfort), entitled German Theology, in which the author shows
how man may attain perfection by the three methods of
purification, illumination, and communion. Luther never gave
himself up to the mystic theology, but he received from it a
salutary impression. It confirmed him in his disgust for the dry
teaching of the schoolmen, in his contempt for the works and
observances so much trumpeted by the Church, and in the
conviction that he felt of man's spiritual helplessness and of
the necessity of grace, and in his attachment to the Bible. "I
prefer," wrote he to Staupitz, "the mystics and the Bible to all
the schoolmen;" thus placing the former teachers in the next rank
to the sacred writers. Perhaps, also, the German Theology aided
him in forming a sounder idea on the sacraments, and above all on
the mass; for the author maintains that the eucharist gives
Christ to man, and does not offer up Christ to God. Luther
accompanied this publication by a preface, in which he declared
that, next to the Bible and St. Augustine, he had never met with
a book in which he had learnt more of God, Christ, man, and of
all things. Already many doctors began to speak ill of the
Wittemberg professors, and accused them of innovation. "One
would say," continues Luther, "that there had never lived men
before us who taught as we teach. Yes, in truth, there have been
many. But the anger of God, which our sins have deserved, has
prevented us from seeing and hearing them. For a long time the
universities have banished the Word of God into a corner. Let
them read this book, and then let them say whether our theology
is new, for this is not a new book."
But if Luther derived from the mystic divinity whatever good
it contained, he did not take the bad also. The great error of
mysticism is to overlook the free gift of salvation. We are
about to notice a remarkable example of the purity of his faith.
Luther had an affectionate and tender heart, and desired to
see those whom he loved in possession of that light which had
guided him into the paths of peace. He took advantage of every
opportunity that occurred, as professor, preacher, or monk, as
well as of his extensive correspondence, to communicate his
treasure to others. One of his former brethren in the convent of
Erfurth, the monk George Spenlein, was then residing in the
convent of Memmingen, perhaps after having spent a short time at
Wittemberg. Spenlein had commissioned the doctor to sell various
articles that he had left with him--a tunic of Brussels cloth, a
work by an Eisenach doctor, and a hood. Luther carefully
discharged this commission. He received, says he in a letter to
Spenlein, dated the 7th April 1516, one florin for the tunic,
half a florin for the book, and a florin for the hood, and had
remitted the amount to the father-vicar, to whom Spenlein owed
three florins. But Luther quickly passes from this account of a
monk's wardrobe to a more important subject.
"I should be very glad to know," wrote he to friar George,
"what is the state of your soul. Is it not tired of its own
righteousness? does it not breathe freely at last, and does it
not confide in the righteousness of Christ? In our days, pride
seduces many, and especially those who labor with all their might
to become righteous. Not understanding the righteousness of God
that is given to us freely in Christ Jesus, they wish to stand
before Him on their own merits. But that cannot be. When you
were living with me, you were in that error, and so was I. I am
yet struggling unceasingly against it, and I have not yet
entirely triumphed over it.
"Oh, my dear brother, learn to know Christ, and him
crucified. Learn to sing unto him a new song, to despair of
yourself, and to say to him: Thou, Lord Jesus Christ, art my
righteousness, and I am thy sin. Thou hast taken what was mine,
and hast given me what was thine. What thou wast not, thou didst
become, in order that I might become what I was not!--Beware, my
dear George, of pretending to such purity as no longer to confess
yourself a sinner: for Christ dwells only with sinners. He came
down from heaven, where he was living among the righteous, in
order to live also among sinners. Meditate carefully upon this
love of Christ, and you will taste all its unspeakable
consolation. If our labors and afflictions could give peace to
the conscience, why should Christ have died? You will not find
peace, save in him, by despairing of yourself and of your works,
and in learning with what love he opens his arms to you, taking
all your sins upon himself, and giving thee all his
righteousness."
Thus the powerful doctrine that had already saved the world
in the apostolic age, and which was destined to save it a second
time in the days of the Reformation, was clearly and forcibly
explained by Luther. Passing over the many ages of ignorance and
superstition that had intervened, in this he gave his hand to
Saint Paul.
Spenlein was not the only man whom he ought to instruct in
this fundamental doctrine. The little truth that he found in
this respect in the writings of Erasmus, made him uneasy. It was
of great importance to enlighten a man whose authority was so
great, and whose genius was so admirable. But how was he to do
it? His court-friend, the Elector's chaplain, was much respected
by Erasmus: it is to him that Luther applies. "What displeases
me in Erasmus, who is a man of such extensive learning, is, my
dear Spalatin," wrote Luther, "that by the righteousness of works
and of the law, of which the apostle speaks, he understands the
fulfilling of the ceremonial law. The righteousness of the law
consists not only in ceremonies, but in all the works of the
decalogue. Even if these works should be accomplished without
faith in Christ, they may, it is true, produce a Fabricius a
Regulus, and other men perfectly upright in the eyes of the
world; but they then deserve as little to be styled
righteousness, as the fruit of the medlar to be called a fig.
For we do not become righteous, as Aristotle maintains, by
performing righteous works; but when we are become righteous,
then we perform such works. The man must first be changed, and
afterwards the works. Abel was first accepted by God, and then
his sacrifice." Luther continues: "Fulfil, I beseech you, the
duty of a friend and of a Christian by communicating these
matters to Erasmus." This letter is thus dated: "In haste, from
the corner of our convent, 19th October 1516." It places in its
true light the relation between Luther and Erasmus. It shows the
sincere interest he felt in what he thought would be really
beneficial to this illustrious writer. Undoubtedly, the
opposition shown by Erasmus to the truth compelled Luther
somewhat later to combat him openly; but he did not do so until
he had sought him to enlighten his antagonist.
At last then were heard explained ideas at once clear and
deep on the nature of goodness. Then was declared the principle,
that what constitutes the real goodness of an action is not its
outward appearance, but the spirit in which it is performed.
This was aiming a deadly blow at all those superstitious
observances which for ages had oppressed the Church, and
prevented christian virtues from growing up and flourishing
within it.
"I am reading Erasmus," says Luther on another occasion,
"but he daily loses his credit with me. I like to see him rebuke
with so much firmness and learning the grovelling ignorance of
the priests and monks; but I fear that he does not render great
service to the doctrine of Jesus Christ. What is of man is
dearer to him than what is of God. We are living in dangerous
times. A man is not a good and judicious Christian because he
understands Greek and Hebrew. Jerome who knew five languages, is
inferior to Augustine who understood but one; although Erasmus
thinks the contrary. I very carefully conceal my opinions
concerning Erasmus, through fear of giving advantage to his
adversaries. Perhaps the Lord will give him understanding in His
time."
The helplessness of man--the omnipotence of God, were the
two truths that Luther desired to re-establish. That is but a
sad religion and a wretched philosophy by which man is directed
to his own natural strength. Ages have tried in vain this so
much boasted strength; and while man has, by his own natural
powers, arrived at great excellence in all that concerns his
earthly existence, he has never been able to scatter the darkness
that conceals from his soul the knowledge of the true God, or to
change a single inclination of his heart. The highest degree of
wisdom attained by ambitious minds, or by souls thirsting with
the desire of perfection, has been to despair of themselves. It
is therefore a generous, a comforting, and supremely true
doctrine which unveils our own impotency in order to proclaim a
power from God by which we can do all things. That truly is a
great reformation which vindicates on earth the glory of heaven,
and which pleads before man the rights of the Almighty God.
No one knew better than Luther the intimate and indissoluble
bond that unites the gratuitous salvation of God with the free
works of man. No one showed more plainly than he, that it is
only by receiving all from Christ, that man can impart much to
his brethren. He always represented these two actions--that of
God and that of man--in the same picture. And thus it is, that
after explaining to the friar Spenlein what is meant by saving
righteousness, he adds, "If thou firmly believest those things,
as is thy duty (for cursed is he who does not believe them),
receive thy brethren who are still ignorant and in error, as
Jesus Christ has received thee. Bear with them patiently. Make
their sins thine own; and if thou hast any good thing, impart it
to them. 'Receive ye one another,' says the apostle, 'as Christ
also received us, to the glory of God.' (Rom. xv. 7.) It is a
deplorable righteousness that cannot bear with others because it
finds them wicked, and which thinks only of seeking the solitude
of the desert, instead of doing them good by long-suffering,
prayer, and example. If thou art the lily and the rose of
Christ, know that thy dwelling-place is among thorns. Only take
care lest by thy impatience, by thy rash judgments, and thy
secret pride, thou dost to thyself become a thorn. Christ reigns
in the midst of his enemies. If he had desired to live only
among the good, and to die for those only who loved him, for
whom, I pray, would he have died, and among whom would he have
lived?"
It is affecting to see how Luther practiced these charitable
precepts. An Augustine monk of Erfurth, George Leiffer, was
exposed to many trials. Luther became informed of this, and
within a week after writing the preceding letter to Spenlein, he
came to him with words of comfort. "I learn that you are
agitated by many tempests, and that your soul is tossed to and
fro by the waves......The cross of Christ is divided among all
the world, and each man has his share. You should not,
therefore, reject that which has fallen to you. Receive it
rather as a holy relic, not in the vessel of silver or of gold,
but in what is far better--in a heart of gold,--in a heart full
of meekness. If the wood of the cross has been so sanctified by
the body and blood of Christ, that we consider it as the most
venerable relic, how much more should the wrongs, persecutions,
sufferings, and hatred of men, be holy relics unto us, since they
have not only been touched by Christ's flesh, but have been
embraced, kissed, and blessed by his infinite charity."
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 9
Luther's first Theses--The Old Adam and Grace--Visitation of the
Convents--Luther at Dresden and Erfurth--Tornator--Peace and the
Cross--Results of Luther's Journey--His Labors--The Plague.
Luther's teaching produced its natural fruits. Many of his
disciples already felt themselves impelled to profess publicly
the truths which their master's lessons had revealed to them.
Among his hearers was a young scholar, Bernard of Feldkirchen,
professor of Aristotle's physics in the university, and who five
years later was the first of the evangelical ecclesiastics who
entered into the bonds of matrimony.
It was Luther's wish that Feldkirchen should maintain, under
his presidence, certain theses or propositions in which his
principles were laid down. The doctrines professed by Luther
thus gained additional publicity. The disputation took place in
1516.
This was Luther's first attack upon the dominion of the
sophists and upon the papacy, as he himself characterizes it.
Weak as it was, it caused him some uneasiness. "I allow these
propositions to be printed," said he many years after, when
publishing them in his works, "principally that the greatness of
my cause, and the success with which God has crowned it, may not
make me vain. For they fully manifest my humiliation, that is to
say, the infirmity and ignorance, the fear and trembling with
which I began this conflict. I was alone: I had thrown myself
imprudently into this business. Unable to retract, I conceded
many important points to the pope, and I even adored him."
Some of the propositions were as follows:
"The old Adam is the vanity of vanities; he is the universal
vanity; and he renders all other creatures vain, however good
they may be.
"The old Adam is called the flesh, not only because he is
led by the lusts of the flesh, but further, because should he be
chaste, prudent, and righteous, he is not born again of God by
the Holy Ghost.
"A man who has no part in the grace of God, cannot keep the
commandments of God, or prepare himself, either wholly or in
part, to receive grace; but he rests of necessity under the power
of sin.
"The will of man without grace is not free, but is enslaved,
and that too with its own consent.
"Jesus Christ, our strength and our righteousness, he who
trieth the heart and reins, is the only discerner and judge of
our merits.
"Since all is possible, by Christ, to the believer, it is
superstitious to seek for other help, either in man's will or in
the saints."
This disputation made a great noise, and it has been
considered as the beginning of the Reformation.
The hour drew nigh in which the Reformation was to burst
forth. God hastened to prepare the instrument that he had
determined to employ. The elector, having built a new church at
Wittemberg, to which he gave the name of All Saints, sent
Staupitz into the Low Countries to collect relics for the
ornament of the new edifice. The vicar-general commissioned
Luther to replace him during his absence, and in particular to
make a visitation of the forty monasteries of Misnia and
Thuringia.
Luther repaired first to Grimma, and thence to Dresden.
Everywhere he endeavoured to establish the truths that he had
discovered, and to enlighten the members of his order.--"Do not
bind yourselves to Aristotle or to any other teacher of a
deceitful philosophy," said he to the monks, "but read the Word
of God with diligence. Do not look for salvation in your own
strength or in your good works, but in the merits of Christ and
in God's grace."
An Augustine monk of Dresden had fled from his convent, and
was at Mentz, where the prior of the Augustines had received him.
Luther wrote to the latter, begging him to send back the stray
sheep, and added these words so full of charity and truth: "I
know that offences must needs come. It is no marvel that man
falls; but it is so that he rises again and stands upright.
Peter fell that he might know he was but a man. Even in our days
the cedars of Lebanon are seen to fall. The very angels--a thing
that exceeds all imagination!--have fallen in heaven, and Adam in
paradise. Why then should we be surprised if a reed is shaken by
the whirlwind, or if a smoking taper is extinguished?"
From Dresden Luther proceeded to Erfurth, and reappeared to
discharge the functions of vicar-general in that very convent
where, eleven years before, he had wound up the clock, opened the
gates, and swept out the church. He nominated to the priorship
of the convent his friend the bachelor John Lange, a learned and
pious but severe man: he exhorted him to affability and
patience. "Put on," wrote he to him shortly after, "put on a
spirit of meekness towards the prior of Nuremberg: this is but
proper, seeing that he has assumed a spirit of bitterness and
harshness. Bitterness is not expelled by bitterness, that is to
say, the devil by the devil; but sweetness dispels bitterness,
that is to say the finger of God casts out the evil spirit." We
must, perhaps, regret that Luther did not on various occasions
remember this excellent advice.
At Neustadt on the Orla there was nothing but disunion.
Dissensions and quarrels reigned in the convent, and all the
monks were at war with their prior. They assailed Luther with
their complaints. The prior Michael Dressel, or Tornator, as
Luther calls him, translating his name into Latin, on his side
laid all his troubles before the doctor. "Peace, peace!" said
he. "You seek peace," replied Luther; "but it is the peace of
the world, and not the peace of Christ that you seek. Do you not
know that our God has set his peace in the midst of war? He whom
no one disturbs has not peace. But he who, troubled by all men
and by the things of this life, bears all with tranquillity and
joy--he possesses the true peace. Say rather with Christ: The
cross, the cross! and there will be no cross. For the cross
ceases to be a cross, as soon as we can say with love: O blessed
cross, there is no wood like thine!" On his return to
Wittemberg, Luther, desiring to put an end to these dissensions,
permitted the monks to elect another prior.
Luther returned to Wittemberg after an absence of six weeks.
He was afflicted at all that he had seen; but the journey gave
him a better knowledge of the Church and of the world, increased
his confidence in his intercourse with society, and afforded him
many opportunities of founding schools, of pressing this
fundamental truth that "Holy Scripture alone shows us the way to
heaven," and of exhorting the brethren to live together in
holiness, chastity, and peace. There is no doubt that much good
seed was sown in the different Augustine convents during this
journey of the reformer. The monastic orders, which had long
been the support of Rome, did perhaps more for the Reformation
than against it. This is true in particular of the Augustines.
Almost all the pious men of liberal and elevated mind, who were
living in the cloisters, turned towards the Gospel. A new and
generous blood erelong circulated through these orders, which
were, so to speak, the arteries of the German church. As yet
nothing was known in the world of the new ideas of the Wittemberg
Augustine, while they were already the chief topic of
conversation in the chapters and monasteries. Many a cloister
thus became a nursery of reformers. As soon as the great
struggle took place, pious and able men issued from their
obscurity, and abandoned the seclusion of a monastic life for the
active career of ministers of God's Word. At the period of this
inspection of 1516 Luther awakened many drowsy souls by his
words. Hence this year has been named "the morning star of the
gospel-day."
Luther resumed his usual occupation. He was at this period
overwhelmed with labor: it was not enough that he was professor,
preacher, and confessor; he was burdened still further by many
temporal occupations having reference to his order and his
convent. "I have need almost continually," writes he, "of two
secretaries; for I do nothing else all the day long but write
letters. I am preacher to the convent, I read the prayers at
table, I am pastor and parish minister, director of studies, the
prior's vicar (that is to say, prior eleven times over!),
inspector of the fish-ponds at Litzkau, counsel to the inns of
Herzberg at Torgau, lecturer on Saint Paul, and commentator on
the Psalms......I have rarely time to repeat the daily prayers
and to sing a hymn; without speaking of my struggles with flesh
and blood, with the devil and the world......Learn from this what
an idle man I am!"
About this time the plague broke out in Wittemberg. A great
number of the students and teachers quitted the city. Luther
remained. "I am not certain," wrote he to his friend at Erfurth,
"if the plague will let me finish the Epistle to the Galatians.
Its attacks are sudden and violent: it is making great ravages
among the young in particular. You advise me to fly. Whither
shall I fly? I hope that the world will not come to an end, if
Brother Martin dies. If the pestilence spreads, I shall disperse
the brothers in every direction; but as for me, my place is here;
duty does not permit me to desert my post, until He who has
called me shall summon me away. Not that I have no fear of death
(for I am not Paul, I am only his commentator); but I hope that
the Lord will deliver me from fear." Such was the resolution of
the Wittemberg doctor. Shall he whom the pestilence could not
force to retire a single step, shrink before Rome? Shall he
yield through fear of the scaffold?
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 10
The Relics--Relations of Luther with the Elector--Advice to the
Chaplain--Duke George--His Character--Luther's Sermon before the
Court--Dinner at Court--Evening with Emser.
Luther displayed the same courage before the mighty of this
world, that he had shown amidst the most formidable evils. The
elector was much pleased with the vicar-general, who had made a
rich harvest of relics in the Low Countries. Luther gives an
account of them to Spalatin; and this affair of the relics,
occurring at the moment when the Reformation is about to begin,
is a singular circumstance. Most certainly, the reformers had
little idea to what point they were tending. A bishopric
appeared to the elector the only recompense worthy the services
of the vicar-general. Luther, to whom Spalatin wrote on the
subject, strongly disapproved of such an idea. "There are many
things which please your prince," replied he, "and which,
nevertheless, are displeasing to God. I do not deny that he is
skilful in the matters of this world; but in what concerns God
and the salvation of souls, I account him, as well as his
councillor Pfeffinger, sevenfold blind. I do not say this behind
their backs, like a slanderer; do not conceal it from them, for I
am ready myself, and on all occasions, to tell it them both to
their faces. Why would you," continues he, "surround this man
(Staupitz) with all the whirlwinds and tempests of episcopal
cares?"
The elector was not offended with Luther's frankness. "The
prince," wrote Spalatin, "often speaks of you, and in honorable
terms." Frederick sent the monk some very fine cloth for a gown.
"It would be too fine," said Luther, "if it were not a prince's
gift. I am not worthy that any man should think of me, much less
a prince, and so great a prince as he. Those are my best friends
who think the worst of me. Thank our prince for his kindness to
me; but I cannot allow myself to be praised either by you or by
any man; for all praise of man is vain, and only that which comes
from God is true."
The excellent chaplain was unwilling to confine himself to
his court functions. He wished to make himself useful to the
people; but like many individuals in every age, he desired to do
it without offence and without irritation, by conciliating the
general favor. "Point out," wrote he to Luther, "some work that
I may translate into our mother tongue; one that shall give
general satisfaction, and at the same time be useful." Agreeable
and useful!" replied Luther; "such a question is beyond my
ability. The better things are, the less they please. What is
more salutary than Jesus Christ? and yet he is to the majority a
savour of death. You will tell me that you wish to be useful
only to those who love what is good. In that case make them hear
the voice of Jesus Christ: you will be useful and agreeable,
depend upon it, to a very small number only; for the sheep are
rare in this region of wolves."
Luther, however, recommended to his friend the sermons of
the Dominican Tauler. "I have never read," said he, "either in
Latin or in our own language, a theology sounder, or more in
conformity with the Gospel. Taste, then, and see how sweet the
Lord is, but not till after you have first tasted and felt how
bitter is everything that we are ourselves."
It was in the course of the year 1517 that Luther entered
into communication with Duke George of Saxony. The house of
Saxony had at that time two chiefs. Two princes, Ernest and
Albert, carried off in their youth from the castle at Altenburg
by Kunz of Kaufungen, had, by the treaty of Leipsic, become the
founders of the two houses which still bear their names. The
Elector Frederick, son of Ernest, was, at the period we are
describing, the head of the Ernestine branch; and his cousin Duke
George, of the Albertine. Dresden and Leipsic were both situated
in the states of this duke, whose residence was in the former of
these cities. His mother, Sidonia, was daughter of George
Podiebrad, king of Bohemia. The long struggle that Bohemia had
maintained with Rome, since the time of John Huss, had not been
without influence on the prince of Saxony. He had often
manifested a desire for a Reformation. "He has imbibed it with
his mother's milk," said the priests; "he is by birth an enemy of
the clergy." He annoyed the bishops, abbots, canons, and monks
in many ways; and his cousin, the Elector Frederick, was
compelled more than once to interfere in their behalf. It seemed
that Duke George would be one of the warmest partisans of a
Reformation. The devout Frederick, on the other hand, who had in
former years worn the spurs of Godfrey in the Holy Sepulchre, and
girding himself with the long and heavy sword of the conqueror of
Jerusalem, had made oath to fight for the Church, like that
ancient and valiant knight, appeared destined to be the most
ardent champion of Rome. But in all that concerns the Gospel,
the anticipations of human wisdom are frequently disappointed.
The reverse of what we might have supposed took place. The duke
would have been delighted to humiliate the Church and the clergy,
to humble the bishops, whose princely retinue far surpassed his
own; but it was another thing to receive into his heart the
evangelical doctrine that would humble it, to acknowledge himself
a guilty sinner, incapable of being saved, except by grace alone.
He would willingly have reformed others, but he cared not to
reform himself. He would perhaps have set his hand to the task
of compelling the bishop of Mentz to be contented with a single
bishopric, and to keep no more than fourteen horses in his
stables, as he said more than once; but when he saw another than
himself step forward as a reformer,--when he beheld a simple monk
undertake this work, and the Reformation gaining numerous
partisans among the people, the haughty grandson of the Hussite
king became the most violent adversary of the reform to which he
had before shown himself favorable.
In the month of July 1517, Duke George requested Staupitz to
send him an eloquent and learned preacher. Luther was
recommended to him as a man of extensive learning and
irreproachable conduct. The prince invited him to preach at
Dresden in the castle-chapel, on the feast of St. James the
Elder.
The day arrived. The duke and his court repaired to the
chapel to hear the Wittemberg preacher. Luther joyfully seized
this opportunity of testifying to the truth before such an
assemblage. He selected his text from the gospel of the day:
Then came to him the mother of Zebedee's children with her sons,
&c. (Matt. xx. 20-23). He preached on the unreasonable desire
and prayers of men; and then spoke emphatically on the assurance
of salvation. He established it on this foundation, that those
who receive the Word of God with faith are the true disciples of
Jesus Christ, elected to eternal life. He next treated of
gratuitous election, and showed that this doctrine, if presented
in union with the work of Christ, has great power to dispel the
terrors of conscience; so that men, instead of flying far from
the righteous God, at the sight of their own unworthiness, are
gently led to seek their refuge in Him. In conclusion, he
related an allegory to three virgins, from which he deduced
edifying instructions.
The word of truth made a deep impression on his hearers.
Two of them in particular seemed to pay very great attention to
the sermon of the Wittemberg monk. The first was a lady of
respectable appearance, who was seated on the court benches, and
on whose features a profound emotion might be traced. It was
Madame de la Sale, first lady to the duchess. The other was a
licentiate in canon law, Jerome Emser, councillor and secretary
to the duke. Emser possessed great talents and extensive
information. A courtier and skilful politician, he would have
desired to be on good terms with the two contending parties--to
pass at Rome for a defender of the papacy, and at the same time
shine in Germany among the learned men of the age. But under
this pliant mind was concealed a violent character. It was in
the palace-chapel at Dresden that Luther and Emser first met;
they were afterwards to break more than one lance together.
The dinner hour arrived for the inhabitants of the palace,
and in a short time the ducal family and the persons attached to
the court were assembled at table. The conversation naturally
fell on the preacher of the morning. "How were you pleased with
the sermon?" said the duke to the Madame de la Sale.--"If I could
hear but one more like it," replied she, "I should die in
peace."--"And I," replied George angrily, "would rather give a
large sum not to have heard it; for such discourses are only
calculated to make people sin with assurance."
The master having thus made known his opinion, the courtiers
gave way uncontrolled to their dissatisfaction. Each one had his
censure ready. Some maintained that in his allegory of the three
virgins, Luther had in view three ladies of the court; on which
there arose interminable babbling. They rallied the three ladies
whom the monk of Wittemberg had thus, they said publicly pointed
out. He is an ignorant fellow, said some; he is a proud monk,
said others. Each one made his comment on the sermon, and put
what he pleased into the preacher's mouth. The truth had fallen
into the midst of a court that was little prepared to receive it.
Every one mangled it after his own fashion. But while the Word of
God was thus an occasion of stumbling to many, it was for the
first lady a stone of uprising. Falling sick a month after, she
confidently embraced the grace of the Saviour, and died with joy.
As for the duke, it was not perhaps in vain that he heard
this testimony to the truth. Whatever may have been his
opposition to the Reformation during his life, we know that at
his death he declared that he had no hope save in the merits of
Jesus Christ.
It was natural that Emser should do the honors to Luther in
his master's name. He invited him to supper. Luther refused;
but Emser persisted, and prevailed on him to come. Luther
thought he should only meet a few friends; but he soon perceived
that a trap had been laid for him. A master of arts from Leipsic
and several Dominicans were with the prince's secretary. The
master of arts, having no mean opinion of himself, and full of
hatred towards Luther, addressed him in a friendly and honied
manner; but he soon got into a passion, and began to shout with
all his might. The combat began. The dispute turned, says
Luther, on the trumpery of Aristotle and St. Thomas. At last
Luther defied the master of arts to define with all the learning
of the Thomists what is the fulfilling of God's commandments.
The embarrassed disputant put a good face on the matter. "Pay me
my fee," said he holding out his hand, "da pastum." One would
have said that he wished to give a regular lesson, taking his
fellow-guests for his pupils. "At this foolish reply," adds the
reformer, "we all burst into laughter, and then we parted."
During this conversation a Dominican was listening at the
door. He longed to enter and spit on Luther's face: but he
checked himself, and boasted of it afterwards. Emser, charmed at
seeing his guests disputing, and appearing himself to preserve a
due moderation, was earnest in excuses to Luther for the manner
in which the evening had passed. The latter returned to
Wittemberg.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 11
Return to Wittemberg--Theses--Free Will--Nature of Man--
Rationalism--Proposal to the University of Erfurth--Eck--Urban
Regius--Luther's Modesty--Effect of the Theses.
Luther returned zealously to work. He was preparing six or
seven young theologians who were shortly to undergo an
examination for a license to teach. What rejoiced him most of
all was, that their promotion would tend to the discredit of
Aristotle. "I could desire to multiply the number of his enemies
as soon as possible," said he. With this intent he published
certain theses about that time which merit our attention.
Free-will was the great subject treated of. He had already
touched upon it in the Feldkirchen theses; he now went deeper
into the question. There had been from the very commencement of
Christianity, a struggle more or less keen between the two
doctrines of man's liberty and his enslavement. Some schoolmen
had taught, like Pelagius and other doctors, that man possessed
of himself the liberty or the power of loving God and or
performing good works. Luther denied this liberty; not to
deprive man of it, but in order that he might obtain it. The
struggle in this great question is not therefore, as is generally
said, between liberty and slavery: it is between a liberty
proceeding from man, and one that comes from God. Those who
style themselves the partisans of liberty say to man: "Thou hast
the power of performing good works; thou hast no need of greater
liberty." The others, who are called the partisans of servitude,
say on the contrary: "True liberty is what thou needest, and God
offers it thee in his Gospel." On the one side, they speak of
liberty to perpetuate slavery; on the other, they speak of
slavery to give liberty. Such was the contest in the times of
St. Paul, of St. Augustine, and of Luther. Those who say,
"Change nothing," are the champions of slavery: the others who
say, "Let your fetters fall off," are the champions of liberty.
But we should deceive ourselves were we to sum up all the
Reformation in that particular question. It is one of the
numerous doctrines maintained by the Wittemberg doctor, and that
is all. It would be indulging in a strange delusion to pretend
that the Reformation was a fatalism,--an opposition to liberty.
It was a noble emancipation of the human mind. Snapping the
numerous bonds with which the hierarchy had bound men's minds,--
restoring the ideas of liberty, of right, of free examination, it
set free its own age, ourselves, and the remotest posterity. But
let it not be said that the Reformation delivered man from every
human despotism, but made him a slave by proclaiming the
sovereignty of Grace. It desired, no doubt, to lead back the
human will, to confound it with and render it entirely subject to
the Divine will; but what kind of philosophy is that which does
not know that an entire conformity with the will of God is the
sole, supreme, and perfect liberty; and that man will be really
free, only when sovereign righteousness and eternal truth alone
have dominion over him?
The following are some of the ninety-nine propositions that
Luther put forth in the Church against the Pelagian rationalism
of the scholastic theology:--
"It is true that man, who has become a corrupt tree, can
will or do naught but evil.
"It is false that the will, left to itself, can do good as
well as evil; for it is not free, but in bondage.
"It is not in the power of man's will to choose or reject
whatever is offered to it.
"Man cannot of his own nature will God to be God. He would
prefer to be God himself, and that God were not God.
"The excellent, infallible, and sole preparation for grace,
is the eternal election and predestination of God.
"It is false to say that if man does all that he can, he
removes the obstacles to grace.
"In a word, nature possesses neither a pure reason nor a
good will.
"On the side of man there is nothing that goes before grace,
unless it be impotency and even rebellion.
"There is no moral virtue without pride or without sorrow,
that is to say, without sin.
"From beginning to end, we are not masters of our actions,
but their slaves.
"We do not become righteous by doing what is righteous; but
having become righteous, we do what is righteous.
"He who says that a divine, who is not a logician, is a
heretic and an empiric, maintains an empirical and heretical
proposition.
"There is no form of reasoning (of syllogism) that holds
with the things of God.
"If the form of the syllogism could be applied to Divine
things, we should have knowledge and not belief of the article of
the Holy Trinity.
"In a word, Aristotle is to divinity, as darkness to light."
"Man is a greater enemy to the grace of God than he is to
the law itself.
"He who is without God's grace sins continually, even should
he neither rob, murder, nor commit adultery.
"He sins, in that he does not fulfil the law spiritually.
"Not to kill, not to commit adultery, externally only and
with regard to the actions, is the righteousness of hypocrites.
"The law of God and the will of man are two adversaries,
that without the grace of God can never be reconciled.
"What the law commands, the will never wished, unless
through fear or love it puts on the appearance of willing.
"The law is the task-master of the will, who is not overcome
but by the Child that is born unto us. (Isaiah ix. 6.)
"The law makes sin abound, for it exasperates and repels the
will.
"But the grace of God makes righteousness abound through
Jesus Christ, who causes us to love the law.
"Every work of the law appears good outwardly, but inwardly
it is sin.
"The will, when it turns towards the law without the grace
of God, does so in its own interest alone.
"Cursed are all those who perform the works of the law.
"Blessed are all those who perform the works of God's grace.
"The law which is good, and in which we have life, is the
love of God shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost. (Rom.
v. 5.)
"Grace is not given in order that the work may be done more
frequently and more easily, but because without grace there can
be no work of love.
"To love God is to hate oneself and to know nothing out of
God."
Thus Luther ascribes to God all the good that man can do.
There is no question of repairing, of patching up, if we may use
the expression, man's will: an entirely new one must be given
him. God only has been able to say this, because God alone can
accomplish it. This is one of the greatest and most important
truths that the human mind can conceive.
But while Luther proclaimed the powerlessness of man, he did
not fall into the other extreme. He says in the eighth thesis:
"It does not hence follow that the will is naturally depraved;
that is to say, that its nature is that of evil itself, as the
Manichees have taught." Originally man's nature was essentially
good: it has turned away from the good, which is God, and
inclined towards evil. Yet its holy and glorious origin still
remains; and it is capable, by the power of God, of recovering
this origin. It is the business of Christianity to restore it to
him. It is true that the Gospel displays man in a state of
humiliation and impotency, but between the two glories and two
grandeurs: a past glory from which he has been precipitated, and
a future glory to which he is called. There lies the truth: man
is aware of it, and if he reflects ever so little, he easily
discovers that all which is told him of his present purity,
power, and glory is but a fiction with which to lull and sooth
his pride.
Luther in his theses protested not only against the
pretended goodness of man's will, but still more against the
pretended light of his understanding in respect to Divine things.
In truth, scholasticism had exalted his reason as well as his
will. This theology, as some of its doctors have represented it,
was at bottom nothing but a kind of rationalism. This is
indicated by the propositions we have cited. One might fancy
them directed against the rationalism of our days. In the theses
that were the signal of the Reformation, Luther censured the
Church and the popular superstitions which had added indulgences,
purgatory, and so many other abuses to the Gospel. In those we
have just quoted, he assailed the schools and rationalism, which
had taken away from that very Gospel the doctrine of the
sovereignty of God, of his revelation, and of his grace. The
Reformation attacked rationalism before it turned against
superstition. It proclaimed the rights of God, before it cut off
the excrescenes of man. It was positive before it became
negative. This has not been sufficiently observed; an yet if we
do not notice it, we cannot justly appreciate that religious
revolution and its true nature.
However this may be, the truths that Luther had just
enunciated with so much energy were very novel. It would have
been an easy matter to support these propositions at Wittemberg;
for there his influence predominated. But it might have been
said that he had chosen a field where he knew that no combatant
would dare appear. By offering battle in another university, he
would give them greater publicity; and it was by publicity that
the Reformation was effected. He turned his eyes to Erfurth,
whose theologians had shown themselves so irritated against him.
He therefore transmitted these propositions to John Lange,
prior of Erfurth, and wrote to him: "My suspense as to your
decision upon these paradoxes is great, extreme, too great
perhaps, and full of anxiety. I strongly suspect that your
theologians will consider as paradoxical, and even as
kakodoxical, what is in my opinion very orthodox. Pray inform
me, as soon as possible, of your sentiments upon them. Have the
goodness to declare to the faculty of theology, and to all, that
I am prepared to visit you, and to maintain these propositions
publicly, either in the university or in the monastery." It does
not appear that Luther's challenge was accepted. The monks of
Erfurth were contented to let him know that these propositions
had greatly displeased them.
But he desired to send them also into another quarter of
Germany. For this purpose he turned his eyes on an individual
who plays a great part in the history of the Reformation, and
whom we must learn to know.
A distinguished professor, by name John Meyer, was then
teaching at the university of Ingolstadt in Bavaria. He was born
at Eck, a village in Swabia, and was commonly styled Doctor Eck.
He was a friend of Luther, who esteemed his talents and his
information. He was full of intelligence, had read much, and
possessed an excellent memory. He united learning with
eloquence. His gestures and his voice expressed the vivacity of
his genius. Eck, as regards talent, was in the south of Germany
what Luther was in the north. They were the two most remarkable
theologians of that epoch, although having very different
tendencies. Ingolstadt was almost the rival of Wittemberg. The
reputation of these two doctors attracted from every quarter, to
the universities where they taught, a crowd of students eager to
listen to their teaching. Their personal qualities, not less
than their learning, endeared them to their disciples. The
character of Dr. Eck had been attacked; but one trait of his life
will show that, at this period at least, his heart was not closed
against generous impulses.
Among the students whom his reputation had attracted to
Ingolstadt, was a young man named Urban Regius, born on the
shores of an Alpine lake. He had studied first at the university
of Friburg in Brisgau. On his arrival at Ingolstadt, Urban
followed the philosophical courses, and gained the professor's
favor. Compelled to provide for his own wants, he was obliged to
undertake the charge of some young noblemen. He had not only to
watch over their conduct and their studies, but even to provide
with his own money the books and clothing that they stood in need
of. These youths dressed with elegance, and were fond of good
living. Regius, in his embarrassed condition, entreated the
parents to withdraw their sons.--"Take courage," was their reply.
His debts increased; his creditors became pressing: he knew not
what to do. The emperor was at that time collecting an army
against the Turks. Recruiting parties arrived at Ingolstadt, and
in his despair Urban enlisted. Dressed in his military uniform,
he appeared in the ranks at their final review previous to
leaving the town. At that moment Dr. Eck came into the square
with several of his colleagues. To his great surprise he
recognized his pupil among the recruits. "Urban Regius!" said
he, fixing on him a piercing glance. "Here!" replied the young
soldier. "Pray, what is the cause of this change?" The young
man told his story. "I will take the matter upon myself,"
replied Eck, who then took away his halberd, and bought him off.
The parents, threatened by the doctor with their prince's
displeasure, sent the money necessary to pay their children's
expenses. Urban Regius was saved, and became somewhat later one
of the bulwarks of the Reformation.
It was through Dr. Eck that Luther thought of making his
propositions on Pelagianism and scholastic rationalism known in
the south of the empire. He did not, however, send them direct
to the Ingolstadt professor, but forwarded them to a common
friend, the excellent Christopher Scheurl, secretary to the city
of Nuremberg, begging him to transmit them to Eck at Ingolstadt,
which was not far from Nuremberg. "I forward you," said he, "my
propositions, which are altogether paradoxical, and even
kakistodoxical, as it would appear to many. Communicate them to
our dear Eck, that most learned and ingenious man, in order that
I may see and hear what he thinks of them." It was thus Luther
spoke at that time of Dr. Eck: such was the friendship that
united them. It was not Luther that broke if off.
But it was not on this field that the battle was to be
fought. These propositions turned on doctrines of perhaps
greater importance than those which two months later set the
Church in flames; and yet, in despite of Luther's challenges,
they passed unnoticed. At most, they were read within the walls
of the schools, and created no sensation beyond them. It was
because they were only university propositions, or theological
doctrines; while the theses which followed had reference to an
evil that had grown up among the people, and which was then
breaking bounds on every side throughout Germany. So long as
Luther was content to revive forgotten doctrines, men were
silent; but when he pointed out abuses that injured all the
world, everybody listened.
And yet in neither case did Luther propose more than to
excite one of those theological discussions so frequent in the
universities. This was the circle to which his thoughts were
restricted. He had no idea of becoming a reformer. He was
humble, and his humility bordered on distrust and anxiety.
"Considering my ignorance," said he, "I deserve only to be hidden
in some corner, without being known to any one under the sun."
But a mighty hand drew him from this corner in which he would
have desired to remain unknown to the world. A circumstance,
independent of Luther's will, threw him into the field of battle,
and the war began. It is this providential circumstance which
the course of events now calls upon us to relate.
Index of Preacher's Help and Notes
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