Chapter XI: Book I: Chap. I (6)

When Luther recovered, something within him had undergone a change. The Bible, his illness, and the words of the old priest, seemed to have made a new appeal to him. As yet, however, there was nothing decided in his mind. He continued his studies, and, in 1505, took his degree of Master of Arts, or Doctor in Philosophy. The University of Erfurt was then the most celebrated in Germany,--the others in comparison with it being only inferior schools. The ceremony was, as usual, performed with great pomp. A procession with torches came to do homage to Luther.[142] The fête was superb, and all was joy. Luther, encouraged, perhaps, by these honours, was disposed to devote himself entirely to law, agreeably to his father's wish.

[142] Luth. Op. (W.) xxii, p. 2229.

But God willed otherwise. While Luther was occupied with other studies, while he began to teach the physics and ethics of Aristotle, and other branches of philosophy, his heart ceased not to cry to him that piety was the one thing needful, and that he ought above all to make sure of his salvation. He was aware of the displeasure which God testifies against sin; he remembered the punishments which he denounces against the sinner; and he asked himself in fear, whether he was sure of possessing the Divine favour. His conscience answered, No! His character was prompt and decided; he resolved to do all that might be necessary to give him a sure hope of immortality. Two events, which happened in succession, shook his soul, and precipitated his determination.

Among his friends at the university was one named Alexis, with whom he was very intimate. One morning it was rumoured in Erfurt that Alexis had been assassinated. Deeply moved at the sudden loss of his friend, he puts the question to himself--What would become of me were I called thus suddenly? The question fills him with the greatest dismay.[143]

[143] "Interitu sodalis sui contristatus." (Cochlœus, p. 1.)

This was in the summer of 1505. Luther, left at liberty by the ordinary recess of the university, resolved on a journey to Mansfeld, to revisit the loved abodes of his infancy, and embrace his parents. Perhaps he also wished to open his heart to his father, and sound him as to the design which was beginning to form in his mind, and obtain a consent to his embracing another calling. He foresaw all the difficulties which awaited him. The indolent habits of the majority of priests displeased the active miner of Mansfeld. Besides, ecclesiastics were little esteemed in the world; most of them had but scanty incomes, and the father, who had made many sacrifices to maintain his son at the university, and who saw him at twenty a public teacher in a celebrated school, was not disposed to renounce the hopes which his pride was cherishing.

We know not what passed during Luther's visit at Mansfeld. Perhaps the decided wish of his father made him afraid to open his heart to him. He again quitted the paternal roof to go and take his seat on the benches of the university, and had reached within a short distance of Erfurt, when he was overtaken by one of those violent storms which are not unfrequent among these mountains. The thunder bursts, and strikes close by his side. Luther throws himself on his knees. It may be his hour is come, Death, judgment, and eternity, surround him with all their terrors, and speak to him with a voice which he can no longer resist. "Wrapt in agony, and in the terror of death," as he himself describes it,[144] he makes a vow, if he is delivered from this danger to abandon the world, and give himself entirely to God. After he had risen from the ground, still continuing to see that death which must one day overtake him, he examines himself seriously, and asks what he ought to do.[145] The thoughts which formerly agitated him return with full force. He has endeavoured, it is true, to fulfil all his duties. But in what state is his soul? Can he appear with a polluted heart before the tribunal of a God so greatly to be feared? He must become holy, and, accordingly, he now thirsts for holiness as he had thirsted for science. But where is it to be found? How shall he acquire it? The university has furnished him with the means of satisfying his desire of knowledge. Who will extinguish the agony, the flame which is consuming him? To what school of holiness must he bend his steps? He will go into a cloister; the monastic life will save him. How often has he heard tell of its power to transform a heart, to sanctify a sinner, to make a man perfect! He will enter a monastic order. He will then become holy, and in that way secure eternal life.[146]

[144] "Mit Erschrecken und Angst Ides Todes umgeben." (Luth., Ep. ii,
101.)

[145] "Cum esset in campo, fulminis ictu territus." (Cochlœ. i.) Being
terrified by a thunderbolt when he was in the field.

[146] "Occasio autem fuit ingrediendi illud vitæ genus, quod pietati
et studiis doctrinæ de Deo, existimavit esse convenientius." (Mel.
Vita Luth.) He adopted this mode of life, because he thought it better
adapted to piety and the study of divine truth.

Such was the event which changed the calling and all the destinies of Luther. We here recognise the finger of God. It was his mighty hand which threw down on the high road this young Master of Arts, this candidate for the bar, this future lawyer, in order to give an entirely new direction to his life. Rubianus, one of Luther's friends, wrote to him at a later period:--"Divine Providence had a view to what you were one day to become, when, as you were returning from your parents, the fire of heaven made you fall to the ground like another Paul, near the town of Erfurt, and carrying you off from our society, threw you into the Order of Augustine." Analogous circumstances thus signalised the conversion of Paul and Luther, the two greatest instruments which Divine Providence has employed in the two greatest revolutions which have taken place upon the earth.[147]

[147] Some biographers say that Alexis was killed by the thunder-clap
which terrified Luther; but two of his contemporaries, Mathesius, (p.
4,) and Selneccer, (in Orat. de Luth.) distinguish between the two
events, and we might even corroborate their testimony by that of
Melancthon, who says, "Sodalem nescio quo casu interfectum." (Vita
Luth.) His companion being killed by an accident, I know not what.

Luther again enters Erfurt. His resolution is immovable, and yet it is not without a pang he is going to break ties which are dear to him. He gives no hint to any one of his intentions. But one evening he invites his friends in the university to a cheerful and frugal repast. Music once more enlivens their social intercourse. It is Luther's adieu to the world. Henceforth, instead of those loved companions of pleasure and toil--monks; instead of those cheerful and intellectual conversations--the silence of the cloister; instead of that enchanting music--the grave notes of the tranquil chapel. God demands it; all must be sacrificed. Yet, for this last time, once more the joys of youth. His friends are full of glee. Luther even leads them on. But at the moment when they are abandoning themselves to mirth and frolic, the young man becomes unable any longer to restrain the serious thoughts which occupy his heart. He speaks.... He makes known his intention to his astonished friends, who endeavour, but in vain, to combat it. That same night, Luther, afraid perhaps of importunate solicitation, quits his lodgings, leaving behind him all his effects and all his books, with the exception of Virgil and Plautus, (as yet he had no Bible.) Virgil and Plautus! Epic and Comedy! singular representation of Luther's mind. In fact, there was in him a whole epic, a beautiful, splendid, and sublime poem; but being naturally inclined to gayety, pleasantry, and broad humour, he mingled more than one familiar trait with the solemn and magnificent groundwork of his life.

Furnished with these two books he proceeds alone, in the dark, to the convent of the Eremites of St. Augustine, and asks to be received. The door opens and closes, and he is separated for ever from his parents, his fellow-students, and the world. This took place on the 17th August 1505, when Luther's age was twenty-one years and nine months.

CHAP. III.

His Father's Anger--Pardon--Servile Employments--The Bag and
the Cell--Courage--St.
Augustine--D'Ailly--Occam--Gerson--The Bible--Hebrew and
Greek--The Hours--Asceticism--Agony--Luther during
Mass--Agony--Useless Observances--Luther in a Faint.

At length he was with God. His soul was in safety. This holiness, so earnestly longed for, he was now to find. At the sight of this young doctor, the monks were all admiration, and extolled him for his courage and contempt of the world.[148] Luther, meanwhile, did not forget his friends. He wrote to take leave of them and the world, and the next day despatched these letters, with the clothes he had hitherto worn, and his diploma of Master of Arts, which he returned to the university, that nothing might in future remind him of the world which he had abandoned.

[148] "Hujus mundi contemptu, ingressus est repente, multes
admirantibus, monasterium." (Cochlœus, i.) From contempt of this
world, he, to the wonder of many, suddenly entered a monastery.

His friends at Erfurt were thunderstruck. Must so distinguished a genius go and hide himself in this monastic life--more properly, a kind of death?[149] In deep sorrow they hastened to the convent, in the hope of inducing Luther to retrace the distressing step which he had taken; but all was useless. The gates were closed, and a month passed before any one was permitted to see or speak to the new monk.

[149] "In vita semi-mortua." (Melch. Adami. V. L. p. 102.) A half-dead
life.

Luther had hastened to acquaint his parents with the great change which had just occurred in his life. His father was thunderstruck. He trembled for his son,--so Luther himself informs us in his book on Monastic Vows, which he dedicated to his father. His weakness, his youth, the ardour of his passions, everything, in short, made him fear that after the first moment of enthusiasm, the indolence of the cloister would make the youth fall either into despair, or into grievous faults. He knew that this mode of life had proved fatal to many. Besides, the counsellor-miner of Mansfield had other views for his son. He was proposing a rich and honourable marriage for him--and, lo! all his ambitious projects are in one night overthrown by this imprudent action.

John wrote his son a very angry letter, in which, as Luther himself tells us, he _thou'd_ him whereas he had _you'd_ him ever since he had taken his degree of Master of Arts. He withdrew all his favour from him, and declared him disinherited of a father's affection. In vain did the friends of John Luther, and doubtless his wife also, endeavour to mollify him; in vain did they say to him, "If you are willing to make some sacrifice to God, let it be the best and dearest thing that you have--your son--your Isaac." The inexorable counsellor of Mansfeld would hear nothing.

Some time after, (the statement is given by Luther in a sermon which he preached at Wittemberg, 20th January 1544,) the plague broke out, and deprived John Luther of two of his sons. On the back of these bereavements, while the father's heart was torn with grief, some one came and told him, "The monk of Erfurt also is dead!" His friends took advantage of the circumstance to bring back the father's heart to the novice. "If it is a false alarm," said they, "at least sanctify your affliction by consenting sincerely to your son's being a monk." "Well, well!" replied John Luther, his heart broken, and still half rebellions; "and God grant him all success." At a later period, when Luther, who had been reconciled to his father, told him of the event which had led him to rush into monastic orders,--"God grant," replied the honest miner, "that what you took for a sign from heaven may not have been only a phantom of the devil!"[150]

[150] "Gott geb das es nicht ein Betrug und teuflisch Gespenst sey."
(Luth. Ep. ii, p. 101.)

At this time Luther was not in possession of that which was afterwards to make him the Reformer of the Church. His entrance into the convent proves this. It was an action done in the spirit of an age out of which he was soon to be instrumental in raising the Church. Though destined to become the teacher of the world, he was still its servile imitator. A new stone was placed on the edifice of superstition by the very hand which was soon to overturn it. Luther was seeking salvation in himself, in human practices and observances, not knowing that salvation is wholly of God. He was seeking his own righteousness and his own glory, and overlooking the righteousness and glory of the Lord. But what he as yet knew not he soon afterwards learned. That immense change which substituted God and His wisdom in his heart for the world and its traditions, and which prepared the mighty revolution of which he was the most illustrious instrument, took place in the cloister of Erfurt.

Martin Luther, on entering the convent, changed his name to that of Augustine.

The monks had received him with joy. It was no small satisfaction to their self-love to see the university abandoned for a house of their order, and that by one of the most distinguished teachers. Nevertheless, they treated him harshly, and assigned him the meanest tasks. They wished to humble the doctor of philosophy, and teach him that his science did not raise him above his brethren. They thought, moreover, they would thus prevent him from spending his time in studies from which the convent could not reap any advantage. The _ci-devant_ Master of Arts behoved to perform the functions of watchman, to open and shut the gates, wind up the clocks, sweep the church, and clean up the rooms.[151] Then when the poor monk, who was at once porter, sacristan, and house-hold servant to the cloister, had finished his task--_"Cum sacco per civitatem"_--"To the town with the bag," exclaimed the friars; and then, with his bread-bag on his shoulders, he walked up and down over all the streets of Erfurt, begging from house to house, obliged, perhaps, to present himself at the doors of those who had been his friends or inferiors. On his return, he had either to shut himself up in a low narrow cell, looking out on a plot only a few yards in extent, or to resume his menial offices. But he submitted to all. Disposed by temperament to give himself entirely to whatever he undertook, when he turned monk he did it with his whole soul. How, moreover, could he think of sparing his body, or of having regard to what might satisfy the flesh? That was not the way to acquire the humility and holiness in quest of which he had come within the walls of the cloister.

[151] "Loca immunda purgare coactus fuit." (M. Adami, Vita Luth. p.
103.) He was obliged to clear away filth.

The poor monk, worn out with fatigue, was eager to seize any moment which he could steal from his servile occupations, and devote it to the acquisition of knowledge. Gladly did he retire into a corner, and give himself up to his beloved studies. But the friars soon found him out, gathered around him, grumbled at him, and pushed him away to his labours, saying, "Along! along! it is not by studying, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, flesh, and money, that a friar makes himself useful to his convent."[152] Luther submitted, laid aside his books, and again took up his bag. Far from repenting of having subjected himself to such a yoke, his wish was to bring it to a successful result. At this period, the inflexible perseverance with which he ever after followed out the resolutions which he had once formed, began to be developed. The resistance which he made to rude assaults gave strong energy to his will. God exercised him in small things that he might be able to stand firm in great things. Besides, in preparing to deliver his age from the miserable superstitions under which it groaned, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of them. In order to empty the cup he behoved to drink it to the dregs.

[152] Selnecceri Orat. de Luth. Mathesius, p. 5.

This severe apprenticeship, however, did not last so long as Luther might have feared. The prior of the convent, on the intercession of the university of which Luther was a member, relieved him from the mean functions which had been imposed on him, and the young monk resumed his studies with new zeal. The writings of the Fathers, particularly those of Augustine, engaged his attention; the Commentary of this illustrious doctor on the Psalms, and his treatise "On the Letter and the Spirit," being his special favourites. Nothing struck him more than the sentiments of this Father on the corruption of the human will, and on Divine grace. His own experience convincing him of the reality of this corruption, and the necessity of this grace, the words of Augustine found a ready response in his heart; and could he have been of any other school than that of Jesus Christ, it had doubtless been the school of the doctor of Hippo. The works of Peter D'Ailly and Gabriel Biel he almost knew by heart. He was struck with a remark of the former--that had not the Church decided otherwise, it would have been much better to admit that in the Lord's Supper bread and wine are truly received, and not mere accidents.

He likewise carefully studied the theologians, Occam and Gerson, who both express themselves so freely on the authority of the popes. To this reading he joined other exercises. In public discussions he was heard unravelling the most complicated reasonings, and winding his way through labyrinths where others could find no outlet. All who heard him were filled with admiration.[153]

[153] "In disputationibus publicis, labyrinthos aliis inextricabiles,
diserte, multis admirantibus explicabat." (Melanc. Vit. Luth.) In
public disputations, he, to the admiration of many, clearly unravelled
labyrinths which others found inextricable.

But he had entered the cloister, not to acquire the reputation of a great genius, but in quest of the food of piety.[154] These labours he accordingly regarded as supernumerary.

[154] "In eo vitæ, genere non famam ingenii, sed alimenta pietatis
quærebat." In that course of life he sought not a reputation for
genius, but the food of piety.

But the thing in which he delighted above all others was to draw wisdom at the pure fountain of the word of God. In the convent he found a Bible fastened to a chain, and was ever returning to this chained Bible. He had a very imperfect comprehension of the Word, but still it was his most pleasant reading. Sometimes he spent a whole day in meditating on a single passage; at other times he learned passages of the Prophets by heart. His great desire was, that the writings of the apostles and prophets might help to give him a knowledge of the will of God, increase the fear which he had for his name, and nourish his faith by the sure testimony of the Word.[155]

[155] "Et firmis testimoniis aleret timorem et fidem." (Melancth. Vit.
Luth.) And by its sure testimonies nourish his fear and his faith.

Apparently at this period he began to study the Scriptures in the original tongues, and thereby lay the foundation of the most perfect and the most useful of his labours, the translation of the Bible. He used a Hebrew Lexicon which Reuchlin had just published. His first guide was probably John Lange, a friar of the convent, versed in Greek and Hebrew, and with whom he always maintained a close intimacy.[156] He also made great use of the learned Commentaries of Nicolas Lyra, who died in 1340, and hence the saying of Pflug, afterwards Bishop of Naumbourg, "Had not Lyra played the lyre, Luther had never danced. _Si Lyra non lyrasset, Lutherus non saltasset._"

[156] Gesch. d. deutsch, Bibelübersetzung.

The young monk studied so closely and ardently that he often omitted to say his Hours during two or three weeks. Then becoming alarmed at the thought of having transgressed the rules of his order, he shut himself up to make amends for his negligence, and commenced conscientiously repeating all the omitted Hours, without thinking of meat or drink. On one occasion his sleep went from him for seven weeks.

Earnestly intent on acquiring the holiness in quest of which he had entered the cloister, Luther addicted himself to the ascetic life in its fullest rigour, seeking to crucify the flesh by fastings, macerations, and vigils.[157] Shut up in his cell as in a prison, he struggled without intermission against the evil thoughts and evil propensities of his heart. A little bread and a herring were often all his food. Indeed, he was naturally very temperate. Often when he had no thought of purchasing heaven by abstinence, have his friends seen him content himself with the coarsest provisions, and even remain four days in succession without eating or drinking.[158] We have this on the testimony of a very credible witness, Melancthon, and we may judge from it what opinion to form of the fables which ignorance and prejudice have circulated concerning Luther's intemperance. At the period of which we treat there is no sacrifice he would have declined to make, in order to become holy and purchase heaven.[159] When Luther, after he had become Reformer, says that heaven is not purchased, he well knew what he meant. "Truly," wrote he to George, Duke of Saxony, "truly I was a pious monk, and followed the rules of my order more strictly than I can tell. If ever monk had got to heaven by monkery, I had been that monk. In this all the monks of my acquaintance will bear me witness. Had the thing continued much longer I had become a martyr unto death, through vigils, prayer, reading, and other labours."[160]

[157] "Summa disciplinæ severitate se ipse regit, et omnibus
exercitiis, lectionum, disputationum, jejuniorum, precum, omnes longe
superat." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) He observes the utmost rigour of
discipline, and in all the exercises of reading, discussion, fastings,
and prayers, far surpasses all.

[158] "Erat enim natura, valde modici cibi et potus; vidi continuis
quatuor diebus, cum quidem recte valeret, prorsus nihil edentem aut
bibentem." (Ibid.) For he was naturally moderate in the use of meat
and drink; I have seen him, no doubt, when in perfect health, neither
eating nor drinking for four successive days.

[159] "Strenue in studiis et exercitiis spiritualibus militavit ibi
Deo, annis quatuor." (Cochlœus, i.) There, in studies and spiritual
exercises, he was a strenuous servant of God for four years.

[160] Luth. Op. (W.) xix, 2299.

We are touching on the period which made Luther a new man, and which, revealing to him the immensity of the Divine love, fitted him for proclaiming it to the world.

The peace which Luther had come in search of he found neither in the tranquillity of the cloister nor in monastic perfection. He wished to be assured of his salvation; it was the great want of his soul, and without it he could have no repose. But the fears which had agitated him when in the world, followed him into his cell. Nay, they were even increased; the least cry of his heart raising a loud echo under the silent vaults of the cloister. God had brought 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 alarm at not finding, either in his heart or his life, that image of holiness which he had contemplated with admiration in the word of God; a sad discovery made by every man who is in earnest! No righteousness within, no righteousness without, everywhere omission, sin, defilement.... The more ardent Luther's natural disposition was the more strongly he felt the secret and unceasing resistance which human nature opposes to goodness. This threw him into despair.

The monks and theologians of the day invited him to do works in order to satisfy the Divine justice. But what works, thought he, can proceed from such a heart as mine! How should I be able with works polluted in their very principle, to stand in presence of my holy Judge? "I felt myself," says he, "to be a great sinner before God, and deemed it impossible to appease him by my merits."

He was agitated, and, at the same time, gloomy, shunning the silly and coarse conversation of the monks, who, unable to comprehend the tempests of his soul, regarded him with astonishment,[161] and reproached him for his gloom and taciturnity. It is told by Cochlœus, that one day, when they were saying mass in the chapel, Luther had come with his sighs, and stood amid the friars in sadness and anguish. The priest had already prostrated himself, the incense had been placed on the altar, the _Gloria_ had been chanted, and they were reading the Gospel, when the poor monk, no longer able to contain his agony, exclaimed, in a piercing tone, while throwing himself on his knees, "Not I! not I!"[162] Every one was in amazement, and the service was for a moment interrupted. Perhaps Luther thought he had heard himself reproached with something of which he knew he was innocent; perhaps he meant to express his unworthiness to be one of those to whom the death of Christ brought eternal life. Cochlœus says that they were reading the passage of Scripture which tells of the dumb man out of whom Christ expelled a demon. If this account is correct, Luther's cry might have a reference to this circumstance. He might mean to intimate that though dumb like the man, it was owing to another cause than the possession of a demon. In fact, Cochlœus informs us that the friars sometimes attributed the agonies of their brother to occult commerce with the devil,[163] and he himself is of the same opinion.

[161] "Visus est fratribus non nihil singularitatis habere."
(Cochlœus, i.) The friars thought him not a little eccentric.

[162] "Cum, ... repente ceciderit vociferans: 'Non sum! non sum!'"
(Ibid.) When he suddenly fell down, crying out, "Not I! not I."

[163] "Ex occulto aliquo cum dæmone commercio." (Cochlœus, i.) From
some hidden intercourse with a demon.

A tender conscience led Luther to regard the smallest fault as a great sin. No sooner had he discovered it than he strove to expiate it by the severest mortifications. This, however, had no other effect than to convince him of the utter inefficacy of all human remedies. "I tormented myself to death," says he, "in order to procure peace with God to my troubled heart and agitated conscience; but, surrounded with fearful darkness, I nowhere found it."

The acts of monastic holiness which lulled so many consciences, and to which he himself had recourse in his agony, soon appeared to Luther only the fallacious cures of an empirical and quack religion. "At the time when I was a monk, if I felt some temptation assail me, I am lost! said I to myself, and immediately resorted to a thousand methods, in order to suppress the cries of my heart. I confessed every day, but that did me no good. Thus oppressed with sadness, I was tormented by a multiplicity of thoughts. 'Look!' exclaimed I, 'there you are still envious, impatient, passionate! It is of no use then, for you, O wretch, to have entered this sacred order.'"

And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices of his day, had from his youth up considered the acts, whose impotence he now experienced, as sure remedies for diseased souls. What was he to think of the strange discovery which he had just made in the solitude of the cloister? It is possible, then, to dwell in the sanctuary, and still carry within oneself a man of sin! He has received another garment, but not another heart. His hopes are disappointed. Where is he to stop? Can it be that all these rules and observances are only human inventions? Such a supposition appears to him at one time a suggestion of the devil, and at another time an irresistible truth. Struggling alternately with the holy voice which spoke to his heart, and with venerable institutions which had the sanction of ages, Luther's life was a continual combat. The young monk, like a shade, glided through the long passages of the cloister, making them echo with his sad groans. His body pined away and his strength left him; on different occasions he remained as if he were dead.[164]

[164] "Sæpe eum cogitantem attentius de ira Dei, aut de mirandis
pœnarum exemplis, subito tanti terrores concutiebant ut pene
exanimaretur." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) Often when meditating more
attentively on the wrath of God, or striking examples of punishment,
he was suddenly shaken with such terror that he became like one dead.

Once, overwhelmed with sadness, he shut himself up in his cell, and for several days and nights allowed no one to approach him. Lucas Edemberger, one of his friends, feeling uneasy about the unhappy monk, and having some presentiment of the state in which he actually was, taking with him several boys, who were accustomed to chant in choirs, went and knocked at the door of his cell. No one opens or answers. Good Edemberger, still more alarmed, forces the door. Luther is stretched on the floor insensible, and showing no signs of life. His friend tries in vain to revive him, but he still remains motionless. The young boys begin to chant a soft anthem. Their pure voices act like a charm on the poor monk, who had always the greatest delight in music, and he gradually recovers sensation, consciousness, and life.[165] But if music could for some moments give him a slight degree of serenity, another and more powerful remedy was wanted to cure him effectually--that soft and penetrating sound of the gospel, which is the voice of God himself. He was well aware of this, and, accordingly, his sorrows and alarms led him to study the writings of the apostles and prophets with renewed zeal.[166]

[165] Seckend., p. 53.

[166] "Hoc studium ut magis expeteret, illis suis doloribus et
pavoribus movebatur." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) His griefs and fears
urged him to prosecute this study with greater eagerness.

CHAP. IV.

Pious Men in Cloisters--Staupitz--His Piety--His
Visitation--Conversation--The Grace of
Christ--Repentance--Power of Sin--Sweetness of
Repentance--Election--Providence--The Bible--The Old
Monk--The Remission of Sins--Consecration Dinner--The Fête
Dieu--Call to Wittemberg.

Luther was not the first monk who had passed through similar struggles. The cloisters often shrouded within the obscurity of their walls abominable vices, at which if they had been brought to light, every honest mind would have shuddered; but they often also concealed Christian virtues which were there unfolded in silence, and which, if they had been placed before the eyes of the world, would have excited admiration. These virtues, possessed by those who lived only with themselves and with God, attracted no attention, and were often even unknown to the modest convent within which they were contained. Leading a life known to God only, these humble solitaries fell occasionally into that mystical theology, sad malady of noblest minds, which formerly constituted the delight of the first monks on the banks of the Nile, and which uselessly consumes those who fall under its influence.

Still, when one of these men happened to be called to an eminent station, he there displayed virtues whose salutary influence was long and widely felt. The candle being placed on the candlestick gave light to all the house. Several were awakened by this light, and hence those pious souls, propagated from generation to generation, kept shining like solitary torches at the very time when cloisters were often little better than impure receptacles of the deepest darkness.

A young man had in this way attracted notice in one of the convents of Germany. He was named John Staupitz, and was of a noble family in Misnia. From his earliest youth, having a taste for science and a love of virtue, he longed for retirement, in order to devote himself to literature;[167] but soon finding that philosophy and the study of nature could do little for eternal salvation, he began to study theology, making it his special object to join practice with knowledge. For, says one of his biographers, it is vain to deck ourselves with the name of theologian, if we do not prove our title to the honourable name by our life.[168] The study of the Bible, and of the theology of St. Augustine, the knowledge of himself, and the war which he, like Luther, had to wage against the wiles and lusts of his heart, led him to the Redeemer, through faith in whom he found peace to his soul. The doctrine of the election of grace had, in particular, taken a firm hold of his mind. Integrity of life, profound science and eloquence, combined with a noble appearance and a dignified address, recommended him to his contemporaries.[169] The Elector of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, made him his friend, employed him on different embassies, and under his direction founded the University of Wittemberg. This disciple of St. Paul and St. Augustine was the first Dean of the Faculty of Theology in that school which was one day to send forth light to enlighten the schools and churches of so many nations. He attended the council of Lateran, as deputy from the Archbishop of Salzbourg, became provincial of his order in Thuringia and Saxony, and ultimately vicar-general of the Augustins all over Germany.

[167] "A teneris unguiculis, generoso animi impetu, ad virtutem et
eruditam doctrinam contendit." (Melanct. Adam. Vita Staupitzii.) From
his earliest years, with generous intellectual impulse, he tended to
virtue and learning.

[168] (Ibid.)

[169] "Corporis forma atque statura conspicuus." (Cochlœ., iii.) He
was remarkably tall and handsome.

Staupitz lamented the corruption of manners and the errors in doctrine which were laying waste the Church. This is proved by his writings on the love of God, on Christian faith, on resemblance to Christ in his death, and by the testimony of Luther. But he considered the former of these evils as greatly the worse of the two. Besides, the mildness and indecision of his character, and his desire not to go beyond the sphere of action which he thought assigned to him, made him fitter to be the restorer of a convent than the Reformer of the Church. He could have wished to confer important stations only on distinguished men, but not finding them, he was contented to employ others. "We must plough with horses," said he, "if we can find them; but if we have no horses, we must plough with oxen."[170]

[170] Luth. Op. (W.) v, 2819.

We have seen the anguish and inward wrestlings to which Luther was a prey in the convent of Erfurt. At this time a visit from the vicar-general was announced, and Staupitz accordingly arrived to make his ordinary inspection. The friend of Frederick, the founder of the University of Wittemberg, the head of the Augustins, took a kind interest in the monks under his authority. It was not long ere one of the friars of the convent attracted his attention. This was a young man of middle stature, whom study, abstinence, and vigils, had so wasted away, that his bones might have been counted.[171] His eyes, which at a later period were compared to those of the falcon, were sunken, his gait was sad, and his looks bespoke a troubled soul, the victim of numerous struggles, yet still strong and bent on resisting. His whole appearance had in it something grave, melancholy, and solemn. Staupitz, whose discernment had been improved by long experience, easily discovered what was passing in the soul of the young friar, and singled him out from those around him. He felt drawn towards him, had a presentiment of his high destiny, and experienced the interest of a parent for his subaltern. He, too, had struggled like Luther, and could therefore understand his situation. Above all, he could show him the way of peace, which he himself had found. The information he received of the circumstances which had brought the young Augustin to the convent increased his sympathy. He requested the prior to treat him with great mildness, and availed himself of the opportunities which his office gave him to gain the young friar's confidence. Going kindly up to him, he took every means to remove his timidity, which was moreover increased by the respect and reverence which the elevated rank of Staupitz naturally inspired.

[171] Mosellani Epist.

The heart of Luther, till then closed by harsh treatment, opened at last, and expanded to the mild rays of charity. "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man."[172] The heart of Staupitz answered to the heart of Luther. The vicar-general understood him; and the monk, in his turn, felt a confidence in Staupitz which no one had hitherto inspired. He revealed to him the cause of his sadness, depicted the fearful thoughts which agitated him, and then in the cloister of Erfurt commenced a conversation full of wisdom and instruction.

[172] Proverbs, xxvii, 19.

"In vain," said Luther despondingly to Staupitz; "in vain do I make promises to God; sin has always the mastery."

"O my friend," replied the vicar-general, thinking how it had been with himself, "more than a thousand times have I sworn to our holy God to live piously, and I have never done so. Now I no longer swear; for I know I should not perform. Unless God be pleased to be gracious to me for the love of Christ, and to grant me a happy departure when I leave this world, I shall not be able with all my vows and all my good works to stand before him. I must perish."[173]

[173] Luth. Op. (W.) viii, 2725.

The young monk is terrified at the thought of the Divine justice, and lays all his fears before the vicar-general. The ineffable holiness of God, and his sovereign majesty, fill him with alarm. Who will be able to support the day of his advent--who to stand when he appeareth?

Staupitz resumes. He knows where he has found peace, and his young friend will hear it. "Why torment thyself," said he to him, "with all these speculations and high thoughts? Look to the wounds of Jesus Christ, to the blood which he has shed for thee; then thou shalt see the grace of God. Instead of making a martyr of thyself for thy faults, throw thyself into the arms of the Redeemer. Confide in him, in the righteousness of his life, and the expiation of his death. Keep not back; God is not angry with thee; it is thou who art angry with God. Listen to the Son of God, who became man in order to assure thee of the Divine favour. He says to thee, 'Thou art my sheep; thou hearest my voice; none shall pluck thee out of my hand.'"[174]

[174] Luth. Op. ii, 264.

But Luther does not here find the repentance which he believes necessary to salvation. He replies, and it is the ordinary reply of agonised and frightened souls, "How dare I believe in the favour of God, while there is nothing in me like true conversion? I must be changed before he can receive me."

His venerable guide shows him that there can be no true conversion while God is dreaded as a severe Judge. "What will you say then," exclaims Luther, "of the many consciences, to which a thousand unsupportable observances are prescribed as a means of gaining heaven?"

Then he hears this reply from the vicar-general, or rather his belief is, that it comes not from man, but is a voice sounding from heaven.[175] "No repentance," says Staupitz, "is true, save that which begins with the love of God and of righteousness.[176] What others imagine to be the end and completion of repentance is, on the contrary, only the commencement of it. To have a thorough love of goodness, thou must, before all, have a thorough love of God. If thou wouldest be converted, dwell not upon all these macerations and tortures; 'Love him who first loved thee.'"

[175] "Te velut e cœlo sonantem accepimus." (Luth. Ep. i, 115, ad
Staupitzium, 30th May, 1518.) We have heard thee, as it were, speaking
from heaven.

[176] "Pœnitentia vero non est, nisi quæ ab amore justitiæ et Dei
incipit," etc. (Ibid.) There is no repentance save that which begins
with the love of God and of righteousness.

Luther listens and listens again. These consoling words fill him with unknown joy, and give him new light. "It is Jesus Christ," thinks he in his heart. "Yes, it is Jesus Christ himself who consoles me so wonderfully by these sweet and salutary words."[177]

[177] "Memini inter jucundissimas et salutares fabulas tuas, quibus me
solet Dominus Jesus mirifice consolari." (Ibid.) I recollect during
your most pleasing and salutary conversation, with which the Lord is
wont wondrously to console me.

These words, in fact, penetrated to the inmost heart of the young monk, like the sharp arrow of a mighty man.[178] In order to repent, it is necessary to love God. Illumined with this new light, he proceeds to examine the Scriptures, searching out all the passages which speak of repentance and conversion. These words, till now so much dreaded, become, to use his own expressions, "an agreeable sport, and the most delightful recreation. All the passages of Scripture which frightened him seem now to rise up from all sides, smiling, and leaping, and sporting with him."[179]

[178] "Hæsit hoc verbum tuum in me, sicut sagitta potentis acuta."
(Ibid.) Your word stuck fast in me, like the sharp arrow of a mighty
man.

[179] "Ecce jucundissimum ludum, verba undique mihi colludebant,
planeque huic sententiæ arridebant et assultabant." (Luth. Ep. i,
115.) When, behold, a most pleasing sport! the words coming from all
sides, sported with me, obviously smiling and leaping at the
sentiment.

"Hitherto," exclaims he, "though I carefully disguised the state of my heart, and strove to give utterance to a love which was only constrained and fictitious, Scripture did not contain a word which seemed to me more bitter than that of _repentance_. Now, however, there is none sweeter and more agreeable.[180] Oh! how pleasant the precepts of God are, when we read them not only in books, but in the precious wounds of the Saviour."[181]

[180] "Nunc nihil dulcius aut gratius mihi sonet quam pœnitentia,"
etc. (Ibid.) Now nothing sounds sweeter or more agreeable to me than
repentance.

[181] "Ita enim dulcescunt præcepta Dei, quando non in libris tantum,
sed in vulneribus dulcissimi Salvatoris legenda intelligimus." (Ibid.)
For thus do the divine precepts become sweet, when we understand that
they are to be read not in books merely, but in the wounds of a most
gracious Saviour.

Meanwhile, Luther, though consoled by the words of Staupitz was still subject to fits of depression. Sin manifested itself anew to his timorous conscience, and then the joy of salvation was succeeded by his former despair. "O my sin! my sin! my sin!" one day exclaimed the young monk in presence of the vicar-general, in accents of the deepest grief. "Ah!" replied he, "would you only be a sinner on canvass, and also have a Saviour only on canvass?" Then Staupitz gravely added, "Know that Jesus Christ is the Saviour even of those who are great, real sinners, and every way deserving of condemnation."

What agitated Luther was not merely the sin which he felt in his heart. The upbraidings of his conscience were confirmed by arguments drawn from reason. If the holy precepts of the Bible frightened him, some of its doctrines likewise increased his terror. Truth, which is the great means by which God gives peace to man, must necessarily begin by removing the false security which destroys him. The doctrine of election, in particular, disturbed the young man, and threw him into a field which it is difficult to traverse. Must he believe that it was man who, on his part, first chose God? or that it was God who first chose man? The Bible, history, daily experience, and the writings of Augustine, had shown him that always, and in every thing, in looking for a first cause, it was necessary to ascend to the sovereign will by which every thing exists, and on which every thing depends. But his ardent spirit would have gone farther. He would have penetrated into the secret counsel of God, unveiled its mysteries, seen the invisible, and comprehended the incomprehensible. Staupitz interfered, telling him not to pretend to fathom the hidden purposes of God, but to confine himself to those of them which have been made manifest in Christ. "Look to the wounds of Christ," said he to him, "and there see a bright display of the purposes of God towards man. It is impossible to comprehend God out of Jesus Christ. In Christ you will find what I am, and what I require, saith the Lord. You can find him nowhere else, either in heaven or on the earth."[182]

[182] Luth. Op. (W.) xxii., p. 489.

The vicar-general went farther. He convinced Luther of the paternal designs of Providence, in permitting the various temptations and combats which the soul has to sustain. He exhibited them to him in a light well fitted to revive his courage. By such trials God prepares those whom he destines for some important work. The ship must be proved before it is launched on the boundless deep. If this education is necessary for every man, it is so particularly for those who are to have an influence on their generation. This Staupitz represented to the monk of Erfurt; "It is not without cause," said he to him, "that God exercises you by so many combats; be assured he will employ you in great things as his minister."

These words, which Luther hears with astonishment and humility, fill him with courage, and give him a consciousness of powers, whose existence he had not even suspected. The wisdom and prudence of an enlightened friend gradually reveal the strong man to himself. Nor does Staupitz rest here. He gives him valuable directions as to his studies, exhorting him in future to lay aside the systems of the school, and draw all his theology from the Bible. "Let the study of the Scriptures," said he, "be your favourite occupation." Never was good advice better followed. But what, above all, delighted Luther, was the present of a Bible from Staupitz. Perhaps it was the Latin Bible bound in red leather, which belonged to the convent, and which it was the summit of his desire to possess, that he might be able to carry it about with him wherever he went, because all its leaves were familiar to him, and he knew where to look for every passage.[183] At length this treasure is his own. From that time he studies the Scriptures, and especially the Epistles of St. Paul, with always increasing zeal. The only author whom he admits along with the Bible is St. Augustine. Whatever he reads is deeply imprinted on his soul, for his struggles had prepared him for comprehending it. The soil had been ploughed deep, and the incorruptible seed penetrates far into it. When Staupitz left Erfurt, a new day had dawned upon Luther.

[183] Seckendorf, p. 52.

Nevertheless, the work was not finished. The vicar-general had prepared it, but its completion was reserved for a humbler instrument. The conscience of the young Augustin had not yet found repose, and, owing to his efforts and the stretch on which his soul had been kept, his body at length gave way. He was attacked by an illness which brought him to the gates of death. This was in the second year of his residence in the convent. All his agonies and terrors were awakened at the approach of death. His own pollution and the holiness of God anew distracted his soul. One day, when overwhelmed with despair, an old monk entered his cell, and addressed him in consoling terms. Luther opened his heart to him, and made him aware of the fears by which he was agitated. The respectable old man was incapable of following him into all his doubts as Staupitz had done; but he knew his _Credo_, and having found in it the means of consoling his own heart, he could apply the same remedy to the young friar. Leading him back to the Apostles' Creed, which Luther had learned in infancy at the school of Mansfield, the old monk good-naturedly repeated the article, "_I believe in the forgiveness of sins_." These simple words, which the pious friar calmly repeated at this decisive moment, poured great consolation into the soul of Luther. "I believe," oft repeated he to himself on his sick-bed, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." "Ah!" said the monk, "the thing to be believed is not merely that David's or Peter's sins are forgiven; this the devils believe: God's command is, to believe that our own sins are forgiven."[184] How delightful this command appeared to poor Luther! "See what St. Bernard says in his sermon on the annunciation," added the old friar; "the witness which the Holy Spirit witnesseth with our spirit is, 'Thy sins are forgiven thee.'"

[184] "Davidi aut Petro ... Sed mandatum Dei esse ut singuli homines,
nobis remitti peccata credamus." (Melancth. Vit. Luth.) Not to David
or Peter, but the command of God is, that every one of us believe that
our sins are forgiven.

From this moment light sprung up in the heart of the young monk of Erfurt. The gracious word has been pronounced, and he believes it. He renounces the idea of meriting salvation, and puts implicit confidence in the grace of God through Jesus Christ. He does not see all the consequences of the principle which he has admitted; he is still sincere in his attachment to the Church, and yet he has no longer need of her. He has received salvation immediately from God himself; and from that moment Roman Catholicism is virtually destroyed in him. He goes forward and searches the writings of the apostles and prophets, for every thing that may strengthen the hope which fills his heart. Each day he invokes help from above, and each day also the light increases in his soul.

The health which his spirit had found soon restores health to his body, and he rises from his sick-bed, after having, in a double sense, received a new life. During the feast of Noel, which arrived shortly after, he tasted abundantly of all the consolations of faith. With sweet emotion he took part in the holy solemnities, and when in the middle of the gorgeous service of the day, he came to chant these words:--"_O beata culpa, quæ talem meruisti Redemptorem!_"[185] his whole being said _Amen_, and thrilled with joy.

[185] "O blessed fault, to merit such a Redeemer." (Mathesius, p. 5.)

Luther had been two years in the cloister, and must now be consecrated priest. He had received much, and he looked forward with delight to the prospect which the priesthood presented of enabling him freely to give what he had freely received. Wishing to avail himself of the occasion to be fully reconciled to his father, he invited him to be present, and even asked him to fix the day. John Luther, though not yet entirely appeased, nevertheless accepted the invitation, and named Sabbath the 2nd May, 1507.

In the list of Luther's friends was the vicar of Isenach, John Braun, who had been his faithful adviser when he resided in that town. Luther wrote him on the 22nd April. It is the Reformer's earliest letter, and bears the following address:--"To John Braun, Holy and Venerable Priest of Christ and Mary." It is only in the two first letters of Luther that the name of Mary occurs.

"God, who is glorious and holy in all his works," says the candidate for the priesthood, "having designed to exalt me exceedingly,--me, a miserable and every way unworthy sinner, and to call me solely out of his abundant mercy, to his sublime ministry, it is my duty in order to testify my gratitude for a goodness so divine and so magnificent, (as far at least as dust can do it,) to fulfil with my whole heart the office which is entrusted to me."

At length the day arrived. The miner of Mansfield failed not to be present at the consecration of his son.... He even gave him an unequivocal mark of his affection and generosity, by making him a present of twenty florins on the occasion.