Chapter XXXV: (Continued) (3)

The setting up of such a “common fund” was also suggested in other Lutheran towns as a means of introducing some sort of order into the confiscation of the Church’s property. The direct object of the funds was not the relief of the poor. This was merely included as a measure for palliating and justifying the bold stroke which the innovators were about to take in secularising the whole of the Church’s vast properties.

This, however, makes some of Luther’s admonitions in his preface to the regulations for the Leisnig common fund sound somewhat strange, for instance, his injunction that everything be carried out according to the law of love. “Christian charity must here act and decide; laws and enactments cannot settle the difficulties. Indeed I write this counsel only out of Christian charity for the Christians.” Whoever refuses to accept his advice, he says at the conclusion, may go his own way; only a few would accept it, but one or two were quite enough for him. “The world must remain the world and Satan its Prince. I have done what I could and what it was my duty to do.” He was half conscious of the unpractical character of his proposals, yet any failure he was determined to attribute to the devil’s doing.

His premonition of failure was only too soon realised at Leisnig. The new scheme could not be made to work. The magistrates refused to resign the rights they claimed of disposing of the foundations and similar charitable sources of revenue or to hand over the incomings to the coffer-masters, for the latter, they argued, were representatives, not of the congregation but of the Church. Hence the fund had to go begging. Luther came to words with the town-council, but was unable to have his own way, even though he appealed to the Elector.[149] He lamented in 1524 that the example of Leisnig had been a very sad one, though, as the first of its kind,[150] it should have served as a model. Of Tileman Schnabel, an ex-Augustinian and college friend of Luther’s at Erfurt, who had been working at Leisnig as preacher and “deacon,” Luther wrote, that he would soon find himself obliged to leave if he did not wish to die of hunger. “Incidents such as these deprive the parsonages of their best managers. Maybe they want to drive them back to their old monasteries.”[151]

Thus the parochial fund of Leisnig, which some writers have extolled so highly, really never came into existence. It lives only in the directions given by Luther.

So ill were parson and schoolmaster cared for at Leisnig, in spite of all the Church property that had been sequestered, that, according to the Visitation of 1529, the preacher there had been obliged to ply a trade and gain a living by selling beer. In 1534, so the records of the Visitations of that date declare, the schoolmaster had for five years been paid no salary.

Link, the Altenburg preacher, was also unsuccessful in his efforts to carry out a similar scheme. He complained as early as 1523, in a writing entitled “Von Arbeyt und Betteln,” that this Christian undertaking had so far “not only not been furthered but had actually gone backward” in spite of all his efforts from the pulpit. He, too, addresses himself to the “rulers” and reminds them that it is their duty “to the best of their ability to provide for the poverty of the masses.”[152]

To Luther’s bitter grief and disappointment Wittenberg (see above, p. 49) also furnished anything but an encouraging example. Here the incentive to the introduction of the common fund by Carlstadt had been the resolve of the town council “to seize on the revenues of the Church, the brotherhoods and guilds and divert them into the common fund, to be employed for general purposes, and for paying the Church officials.… No less than twenty-one pious guilds were to be mulcted.”[153] Yet the Wittenberg measures were so little a success, in spite of all Luther’s efforts, that in his sermons he could not sufficiently deplore the absence of charity and prevalence of avarice and greed amongst both burghers and councillors.[154] The Beutelordnung continued indeed in existence, but merely as an administrative department of the town council.

It is not surprising therefore that Luther gave up for the while any attempt at putting into practice the Leisnig project elsewhere; his scheme for assembling the true Christians into a community had also perforce to betake itself unto the land of dreams. Only in his “Deudsche Messe” of 1526 does the old idea again force itself to the front: “Here a general collection for the poor might be made among the congregation; it should be given willingly and distributed amongst the needy after the example of St. Paul, 2 Cor. ix.… If only we had people earnestly desirous of being Christians, the manner and order would soon be settled.”[155]

Subsequent to 1526, however, Bugenhagen drafted better regulations and poor laws for Wittenberg and other Protestant towns, founded this time on a more practical basis. (See below, p. 57 f.)

* * * * *

Luther, nevertheless, continued to complain of the Wittenbergers. The indignation he expresses at the lack of all charitable endeavours throughout the domain of the new Evangel serves as a suitable background for these complaints.

Want of charity and of neighbourly love was the primary and most important cause of the failure of Luther’s efforts.

“Formerly, when people served the devil and outraged the Blood of Christ,” he says in 1530 in “Das man die Kinder zur Schulen halten solle” (see above, p. 6), “all purses were open and there was no end to the giving, for churches, schools and every kind of abomination; but now that it is a question of founding true schools and churches every purse is closed with iron chains and no one is able to give.” So pitiful a sight made him beg of God a happy death so that he might not live to see Germany’s punishment: “Did my conscience allow of it I would even give my help and advice so as to bring back the Pope with all his abominations to rule over us once more.”[156]

What leads him to such admissions as, that, the Christians, “under the plea of freedom are now seven times worse than they were under the Pope’s tyranny,” is, in the first place, his bitter experience of the drying up of charity, which now ceases to care even for the parsonages and churches. Under the Papacy people had been eager to build churches and to make offerings to be distributed in alms among the poor, but, now that the true religion is taught, it is a wonder how everyone has grown so cold.—Yet the people were told and admonished that it was well pleasing to God and all the angels, but even so they would not respond.—Now a pastor could not even get a hole in his roof mended to enable him to lie dry, whereas in former days people could erect churches and monasteries regardless of cost.—“Now there is not a single town ready to support a preacher and there is nothing but robbery and pilfering amongst the people and no one hinders them. Whence comes this shameful plague? ‘From the doctrine,’ say the bawlers, ‘which you teach, viz. that we must not reckon on works or place our trust in them.’ This is, however, the work of the tiresome devil who falsely attributes such things to the pure and wholesome teaching,” etc.[157]

He is so far from laying the blame on his teaching that he exclaims: What would our forefathers, who were noted for their charity, not have done “had they had the light of the Evangel which is now given to us”? Again and again he comes back to the contrast between his and older times: “Our parents and forefathers put us to shame for they gave so generously and charitably, nay even to excess, to the churches, parsonages and schools, foundations, hospitals,” etc.[158]—“Indeed had we not already the means, thanks to the charitable alms and foundations of our forefathers, the Gospel itself would long since have been wiped out by the burghers in the towns, and the nobles and peasants in the country, so that not one poor preacher would have enough to eat and drink; for we refuse to supply them, and, instead, rob and lay violent hands on what others have given and founded for the purpose.”[159]

To sum up briefly other characteristic complaints which belong here, he says: Now that in accordance with the true Evangel we are admonished “to give without seeking for honour or merit, no one can spare a farthing.”[160]—No one now will give, and, “unless we had the lands we stole from the Pope, the preachers would have but scant fare”; they even try “to snatch the morsels out of the parson’s mouth.” The way in which the “nobles and officials” now treat what was formerly Church property amounts to “a devouring of all beggars, strangers and poor widows; we may indeed bewail this, for they eat up the very marrow of the bones. Since they raise a hue and cry against the Papists let them also not forget us.… Woe to you peasants, burghers and nobles who grab everything, hoard and scrape, and pretend all the time to be good Evangelicals.”[161]

He is only too well acquainted with the evils of mendicancy and idleness, and knows that they have not diminished but rather increased. Even towards the end of his life he alludes to the “innumerable wicked rogues who pretend to be poor, needy beggars and deceive the people”; they deserve the gallows as much as the “idlers,” of whom there are “even many more” than before, who are well able to work, take service and support themselves, but prefer to ask for alms, and, “when these are not esteemed enough, to supplement them by pilfering or even by open, bare-faced stealing in the courtyards, the streets and in the very houses, so that I do not know whether there has ever been a time when robbery and thieving were so common.”[162]

Finally he recalls the enactments against begging by which the “authorities forbade foreign beggars and vagabonds and also idlers.” This brings us back to the attempts made, with the consent of the authorities in the Lutheran districts, to obviate the social evils by means similar to those adopted at Leisnig.

_A Second Stumbling Block: Lack of Organisation_

It was not merely lack of charity that rendered nugatory all attempts to put in force regulations such as those drafted for Leisnig, but also defects in the inner organisation of the schemes. First, to lump all sorts of monies intended for different purposes into a single fund could prove nothing but a source of confusion and diminish the amount to be devoted directly to charitable purposes; this, too, was the effect of keeping no separate account of the expenditure for the relief of the poor.

Then, again, the intermingling of secular and spiritual which the arrangement involved was very unsatisfactory. We can trace here more clearly than elsewhere the quasi-mystic idea of the congregation of true believers which retained so strong a hold on Luther’s imagination till about 1525. With singular ignorance of the ways of the world he wished to set up the common fund on a community based on faith and charity in which the universal priesthood was supposed to have abolished all distinction between the spiritual and secular authorities, nay, between the two very spheres themselves. He took for granted that Evangelical rulers would be altogether spiritual simply because they possessed the faith; faith, so he seemed to believe, would of itself do everything in the members of the congregation; under the guidance of the spirit everything would be “held in common, after the example of the Apostles,” as he says in the preface of the Leisnig regulations. But what was possible of accomplishment owing to abundance of grace in Apostolic times was an impossible dream in the 16th century. “The old ideal of an ecclesiastical commonwealth on which, according to the preface, Luther wished to construct a kind of insurance society for the relief of the poor, could not subsist for a moment in the keen atmosphere of a workaday world where men are what they are.”[163]

Hence the latest writer on social politics and the poor law, from whom the above words are taken, openly expresses his wonder at the “utopian, religio-communistic foundation on which the Wittenberg and Leisnig schemes, and those drawn up on similar lines, were based,” at the “utopian efforts” with their “absurd system of expenditure,” which, owing to their “fundamental defects and the mixing of the funds, were doomed sooner or later to fail.” This “travesty of early Christianity” tended neither to promote the moral and charitable sense of the people nor to further benevolent organisation. “Any rational policy of poor law” was, on the contrary, shut out by these early Lutheran institutions; the relief of the poor was thereby placed on an “eminently unstable basis”; the poor-boxes only served “to encourage idleness.” “Not in such a way could the modern poor-law system, based as it is on impersonal, legal principles, be called into being.”

“No system of poor law has ever had less claim to be placed at the head of a new development than this one [of Leisnig].”[164]

The years 1525 and 1526 brought the turning point in Luther’s attitude towards the question of poor relief, particularly owing to the effect of the Peasant War on his views of society and the Church.

The result of the war was to bring the new religious system into much closer touch with the sovereigns and “thus practically to give rise to a theocracy.”[165] In spite of the changes this produced, Luther’s schemes for providing for the poor continued to display some notable defects.

For all “practical purposes Luther threw over the principle of the universal priesthood which the peasants had embraced as a socio-political maxim, and, by a determined effort, cut his cause adrift from the social efforts of the day.… He worked himself up into a real hatred of the mob, of ‘Master Omnes,’ the ‘many-headed monster,’ and indeed came within an ace of the socio-political ideas of Machiavelli, who advised the rulers to treat the people so harshly that they might look upon those lords as liberal who were not extortionate.” After the abrogation of episcopal authority and canon law, of hierarchy and monasteries “there came an urgent call for the establishment of new associations with practical aims and for the construction of the skeleton of the new Christian community; we now hear no more of that ideal community of true believers which, thanks to its heartfelt faith, was to carry on the social work of preventing and alleviating poverty.”

The whole of the outward life of the Church being now under the direction of the Protestant sovereign, the system of poor relief began to assume a purely secular character, having nothing but an outward semblance of religion. The new regulations were largely the work of Bugenhagen, who was a better organiser than Luther. The many enactments he was instrumental in drafting for the North German towns embody necessary provisions for the relief of the poor.

Officials appointed by the sovereign or town-council directed, or at least supervised, the management, while the “deacons,” i.e. the ecclesiastical guardians of the fund, were obliged to find the necessary money and, generally, to bear all the odium for the meagreness and backwardness of the distribution. The members of the congregation had practically no longer any say in the matter. The parish’s share in the relief of the poor was made an end of even before it had lost the other similar rights assigned to it by Luther, such as that of promulgating measures of discipline, appointing clergy, administering the Church’s lands, etc. Just as the organisation of the Church was solely in the hands of the authorities to the complete exclusion of the congregations, so poor relief and the ecclesiastical regulations on which it was based became merely a government concern.

What Bugenhagen achieved, thanks to the ecclesiastical regulations for poor relief, for which he was directly or indirectly responsible, gave “good hopes, at least at first, of bringing the difficult social problem of those days nearer to a solution.” At any rate they were a “successful attempt to bring some order into the whole system of relief, by means of the authorities and on a scale not hitherto attempted by the Church.”[166] It is true that he, like those who were working on the same lines, e.g. Hedio, Rhegius, Hyperius, Lasco and others, often merely transplanted into a new soil the rules already in vogue in the Catholic Netherlands and the prosperous South German towns. Hedio of Strasburg, for instance, translated into German the entire work of Vives, the opponent of Lutheranism, and exploited it practically and also sought to enter into epistolary communication with Vives. The prohibition of mendicancy, the establishment of an independent poor-box apart from the rest of the Church funds, and many other points were borrowed by Bugenhagen and others from the olden Catholic regulations.

Such efforts were in many localities supplemented by the kindliness of the population and, thanks to a spirit of Christianity, were not without fruit.

As, however, everybody, Princes, nobles, townships and peasants, were stretching out greedy hands towards the now defenceless possessions of the olden Church, a certain reaction came, and the State, in the interests of order, saw fit to grant a somewhat larger share to the ecclesiastical authorities in the administration of Church property and relief funds. The Lutheran clergy and the guardians of the poor were thus allowed a certain measure of free action, provided always that what they did was done in the name of the sovereign, i.e. the principal bishop. The new institutions created by such men as Bugenhagen soon lost their public, communal or State character, and sank back to the level of ecclesiastical enterprises. Institutions of this stamp had, however, “been more numerous and better endowed in the Middle Ages and were so later in the Catholic districts.”

Owing in part to a technical defect in the Protestant regulations, dishonesty and carelessness were not excluded from the management and distribution of the poor fund, the administration falling, as a matter of course, into the hands of the lowest class of officials. Catholics had good reason for branding it as a “usury and parson’s box.”[167] The reason why, in Germany, Protestant efforts for poor relief never issued in a satisfactory socio-political system capable of relieving the poor and thus improving the condition of both Church and State, lay, not merely in the economic difficulties of the time, but, “what is more important, in the social and moral working of the new religion and new piety which Luther had established.”[168]

_Influence of Luther’s Ethics. Robbery of Church Property Proves a Curse_

Not only had the Peasant Rising and the reprisals taken by the rulers and the towns brought misery on the land and hardened the hearts of the princes and magistrates, not only had the means available for the relief of the poor been diminished, first by the founding of new parishes in place of the old ones, which had in many cases been supported by the monasteries and foundations, secondly, by the demands of Protestants for the restitution of many ecclesiastical benefices given by their Catholic forefathers, thirdly, by the drying up of the spring of gifts and donations, but “the common fund, which had been swelled by the shekels of the Church, had now to bear many new burdens and only what remained—which often enough was not much—was employed for charitable purposes.” In the same way, and to an even greater extent, must the Lutheran ethics be taken into account. Luther’s views on justification by faith alone destroyed “that impulse of the Middle Ages towards open-handed charity.” This was “an ethical defect of the Lutheran doctrine”; it was only owing to his “utter ignorance of the world” that Luther persisted in believing that faith would, of itself and without any “law,” beget good works and charity.[169] “It was a cause of wonder and anxiety to him throughout his life that his assumption, that faith would be the best ‘taskmaster and the strongest incentive to good works and kindliness,’ never seemed to be realised.… The most notable result of Luther’s doctrine of grace and denial of all human merit was, at least among the masses, an increase of libertinism and of the spirit of irresponsibility.”[170]

The dire effects of the new principles were also evident in the large and wealthy towns, the exemplary poor-law regulations of which we have considered above. After the innovations had made their way among them we hear little more of provisions being made against mendicancy, for the promotion of work and for the relief of poverty. Hence, as regards these corporations … the change of religion meant, according to Feuchtwanger, “a decline in the quality of their social philanthropy.” (Cp. above, vol. iv., p. 477 ff.)

From some districts, however, we have better reports of the results achieved by the relief funds. In times of worst distress good Christians were always ready to help. Much depended on the spirit of those concerned in the work. In general, however, the complaints of the preachers of the new faith, including Melanchthon, wax louder and louder.[171] They tell us that the patrimony of the poor was being carried off by the rapacity of the great or disappearing under the hands of avaricious and careless administrators, whilst new voluntary contributions were no longer forthcoming. We find no lack of those, who, like Luther’s friend Paul Eber, are given to noting the visible, palpable consequences of the wrong done to the monasteries, brotherhoods and churches.[172]

A long list of statements from respected Protestant contemporaries is given by Janssen, who concludes: “The whole system of poor relief was grievously affected by the seizure and squandering of Church goods and of innumerable charitable bequests intended not only for parochial and Church use but also for the hospitals, schools and poor-houses.”[173] The testimonies in question, the frankness of which can only be explained by the honourable desire to make an end of the crying evil, come, for instance, from Thomas Rorarius, Andreas Musculus, Johann Winistede, Erasmus Sarcerius, Ambrose Pape and the General Superintendent, Cunemann Flinsbach.[174] They tend to show that the new doctrine of faith alone had dried up the well-spring of self-sacrifice, as indeed Andreas Hyperius, the Marburg theologian, Christopher Fischer, the General Superintendent, Daniel Greser, the Superintendent, Sixtus Vischer and others state in so many words.

The incredible squandering of Church property is proved by official papers, was pilloried by the professors of the University of Rostock, also is clear from the minutes of the Visitations of Wesenberg in 1568 and of the Palatinate in 1556 which bewail “the sin against the property set aside for God and His Church.”[175] And again, “The present owners have dealt with the Church property a thousand times worse than the Papists,” they make no conscience of “selling it, mortgaging it and giving it away.” Princes belonging to the new faith also raised their voice in protest, for instance, Duke Barnim XI in 1540, Elector Joachim II of Brandenburg in 1540 and Elector Johann George, 1573. But the sovereigns were unable to restrain their rapacious nobles. “The great Lords,” the preacher Erasmus Sarcerius wrote of the Mansfeld district in 1555, “seek to appropriate to themselves the feudal rights and dues of the clergy and allow their officials and justices to take forcible action.… The revenues of the Church are spent in making roads and bridges and giving banquets, and are lent from hand to hand without hypothecary security.”[176] The Calvinist, Anton Prætorius, and many others not to mention Catholic contemporaries, speak in similar terms.

Of the falling off in the Church funds and poor-boxes in the 16th century in Hesse, in the Saxon Electorate, in Frankfurt-on-the-Main, in Hamburg and elsewhere abundant proof is met with in the official records, and this is the case even with regard to Würtemberg in the enactments of the Dukes from 1552 to 1562, though that country constituted in some respects an exception;[177] at a later date Duke Johann Frederick hazarded the opinion that the regulations regarding the fund “had fallen into oblivion.”

The growth of the proletariate, to remedy the impoverishment of which no means had as yet been discovered, was in no small measure promoted by Luther’s facilitation of marriage.

Luther himself had written, that “a boy ought to have recourse to matrimony as soon as he is twenty and a maid when she is from fifteen to eighteen years of age, and leave it to God to provide for their maintenance and that of their children.”[178] Other adherents of the new faith went even further, Eberlin of Günsburg simply declared: “As soon as a girl is fifteen, a boy eighteen, they should be given to each other in marriage.” There were others like the author of a “Predigt über Hunger- und Sterbejahre, von einem Diener am Wort” (1571), who raised strong objections against such a course. Dealing with the causes of the evident increase of “deterioration and ruin” in “lands, towns and villages,” he says, that “a by no means slight cause is the countless number of lightly contracted marriages, when people come together and beget children without knowing where they will get food for them, and so come down themselves in body and soul, and bring up their children to begging from their earliest years.” “And I cannot here approve of this sort of thing that Luther has written: A lad should marry when he is twenty, etc. [see above]. No, people should not think of marrying and the magistrates should not allow them to do so before they are sure of being able at least to provide their families with the necessaries of life, for else, as experience shows, a miserable, degenerate race is produced.”[179]

What this old writer says is borne out by modern sociologists. One of them, dealing with the 16th and 17th centuries, says: “These demands [of Luther and Eberlin] are obviously not practicable from the economic point of view, but from the ethical standpoint also they seem to us extremely doubtful. To rush into marriage without prospect of sufficient maintenance is not trusting God but tempting Him. Such marriages are extremely immoral actions and they deserve legal punishment on account of their danger to the community.” “Greater evil to the world can scarcely be caused in any way than by such marriages. Even in the most favourable cases such early marriages must have a deteriorating influence on the physical and intellectual culture of posterity.”[180]

Owing to the neglect of any proper care for the poor the plague of vagabondage continued on the increase. Luther’s zealous contemporary, Cyriacus Spangenberg, sought to counteract it by reprinting the Master’s edition of the “_Liber vagatorum_.” He says: “False begging and trickery has so gained the upper hand that scarcely anybody is safe from imposture.” The Superintendent, Nicholas Selnecker, again republished the writing with Luther’s preface in 1580, together with some lamentations of his own. He complains that “there are too many tramps and itinerant scholars who give themselves up to nothing but knavery,” etc.[181]

Adolf Harnack is only re-echoing the complaints of 16th century Protestants when he writes: “We may say briefly that, alas, nothing of importance was achieved, nay, we must go further: the Catholics are quite right when they assert that they, not we, lived to see a revival of charitable work in the 16th century, and, that, where Lutheranism was on the ascendant, social care of the poor was soon reduced to a worse plight than ever before.”[182] The revival in Catholic countries to which Harnack refers showed itself particularly in the 17th century in the activity of the new Orders, whereas at this time the retrograde movement was still in progress in the opposite camp. “For a long time the Protestant relief system produced only insignificant results.” It was not till the rise of Pietism and Rationalism, i.e. until the inauguration of the admirable Home Missions, that things began to improve. But Pietism and Rationalism are both far removed from the original Lutheran orthodoxy.[183]

_Some Recent Excuses_

It has been remarked in excuse of Luther and his want of success, that, “with merit and the hope of any reward, there also vanished the stimulus to strive after the attainment of salvation by means of works,” and that this being so, it was “not surprising” that charity—the selfless fruit of faith—was wanting in many; “for new, albeit higher moral motives, cannot at once come into play with the same facility as the older ones which they displace; there comes a time when the old motives have gone and when the new ones are operative only in the case of a few; the leaven at first only works gradually.” The history of the spread of “the higher motives of morality” not only at the outset of Christianity but at all times, shows, however, as a rule these to be most active under the Inspiration of the Divine Spirit at the time when first accepted. Nor does the comparison with the leaven in the passage quoted apply to a state of decline and decay, where, for a change to be effected, outside and entirely different elements were needed. We are told that the new motives could not at once take effect, but, where the delay extends over quite a century and a half, the blame surely cannot be laid on the shortness of the time of probation.

Again, when we hear great stress laid on the fact that Luther at least paved the way for State relief of the poor and, thus, far outstrode the mediæval Church, one is justified in asking, whether in reality State relief of the poor, with compulsory taxation, non-intervention of Christian charity, or individual effort, or without any morally elevating influence, is something altogether ideal; whether, on the other hand, voluntary charity, as practised particularly by associations, Orders or ecclesiastics, does not deserve a much higher place and take precedence of, or at least stand side by side with, the forced “charity” of the State. Even to-day Protestantism is seeking to reserve a place for voluntary charitable effort. Considerations as to the value of mere State charity would, however, carry us too far. We must refer this matter to experts.[184]

That, before Luther’s day, the authorities took a reasonable and even larger share in the relief of the poor than he himself demanded, is evident from what has been said above (p. 43 ff.).

As a matter of fact, judging by what has gone before, the assertion that the system of State relief of the poor was originated by Luther or by Protestantism calls for considerable “revision.” “The reformation,” so the sociological authority we have so frequently quoted says, “created neither the communal nor the governmental system of poor relief.”[185] This he finds borne out by the different schemes for the relief of the poor contained in the old ecclesiastical constitutions. It is true, he says, that, “according to the idea in vogue, the origin of our present Poor Law can be traced back directly” to the Reformation. Nevertheless, the changes that took place in the social care of the poor subsequent to Luther’s day, though certainly “far-reaching enough,” were “exclusively negative”;[186] owing to his exertions the Church property and that set aside for the relief of the poor was secularised, and the previous free-handed method of distribution ceased; all further growth of legislation on the subject in the prosperous and independent townships was effectually hindered; out of the mass of property that passed into alien hands only a few scraps could be spared by the secular rulers and handed over to the ministers for the benefit of the poor.

This was no State-regulation of poor relief as we now understand it. Still, the way was paved for it in so far as the props of the olden ecclesiastical system of relief had been felled and had eventually to be replaced by something new. In this sense it may be said that Luther’s work “paved the way” for the new conditions.[187]

5. Luther’s Attitude towards Worldly Callings

An attempt has been made to prove the truth of the dictum so often met with on the lips of Protestants, viz. that “Luther was the creator of those views of the world and life on which both the State and our modern civilisation rest,” by arguing, that, at least, he made an end of contempt for worldly callings and exalted the humbler as well as the higher spheres of life at the expense of the ecclesiastical and monastic. What Luther himself frequently states concerning his discovery of the dignity of the secular callings has elsewhere been placed in its true light (and the unhistoric accounts of his admirers are all in last resort based on his). This was done in the most suitable place, viz. when dealing with “Luther and Lying,” and with his spiteful caricature of the mediæval Church.[188] Still, for the sake of completeness, the claims Luther makes in this respect, and some new proofs in refutation of them, must be briefly called to mind in the present chapter. It is not unusual for his admirers to speak with a species of awe of Luther’s achievements in this respect:

“_One of the most Momentous Achievements of the Reformation_”

The claims Luther makes in respect of his labours on behalf of the worldly callings are even greater than his admirers would lead one to suppose. His actual words reveal their hyperbolical character, or rather untruth, by their very extravagance.

Luther we have heard say: “Such honour and glory have I by the grace of God, that, since the time of the Apostles no doctor … has confirmed and instructed the consciences of the secular estates so well and lucidly as I.”[189]—It was quite different with the “monks and priestlings”! They “damned both the laity and their calling.” These “revolutionary blasphemers” condemned “all the states of life that God instituted and ordained”; on the other hand, they extol their self-chosen and accursed state as though outside of it no one could be saved.[190]

The phantom of a Popish, monkish holiness-by-works never left him. In his Commentary on Genesis, though he holds that he has already taught the Papists more than they deserve on the right appreciation of the lower callings and labours, yet he once more informs them of his discovery, “that the work of the household and of the burgher,” such as hospitality, the training of children, the supervision of servants, “despised though they be as common and worthless,” are also well-pleasing to God. “Such things must be judged according to the Word [of God], not according to reason!… Let us therefore thank God that we, enlightened by the Word, now perceive what are really good works, viz. obedience to those in authority, respect for parents, supervision of the servants and assistance of our brethren.” “These are callings instituted by God.” “When the mother of a family provides diligently for her family, looks after the children, feeds them, washes them and rocks them in the cradle,” this calling, followed for God’s sake, is “a happy and a holy one.”[191]

Luther is never tired of claiming as his peculiar teaching that even the most humble calling—that of the maid or day-labourer—may prove a high and exalted road to heaven and that every kind of work, however insignificant, performed in that position of life to which a man is called is of great value in God’s sight when done in faith. He is fond of repeating, that a humble ploughman can lay up for himself as great a treasure in heaven by tilling his field, as the preacher or the schoolmaster, by their seemingly more exalted labours.

There is no doubt, that, by means of this doctrine, which undoubtedly is not without foundation, he consoled many of the lower classes, and brought them to a sense of their dignity as Christians. It is true that it was his polemics against monasticism and the following of the counsels of perfection which led him to make so much of the ordinary states of life and to paint them in such glowing colours. Nevertheless, we must admit that he does so with real eloquence and by means of comparisons and figures taken from daily life which could not but lend attraction to the truth and which differ widely from the dry, scholastic tone of some of his Catholic predecessors in this field.

He does not, however, really add a single fresh element to the olden teaching, or one that cannot be traced back to earlier times.

Either Luther was not aware of this, or else he conceals it from his hearers and readers. It would have been possible to confront him with a whole string of writers, ancient and mediæval, and even from the years when he himself began his work, whose writings teach the same truths, often, too, in language which leaves nothing more to be wished for on the score of impressiveness and feeling.[192] So many proofs, from reason as well as from revelation, had always been forthcoming in support of these truths that it is hard for us now to understand how the idea gained ground that Christians had forgotten them. Those who, down to the present day, repeat Luther’s assertions make too little account of this psychological riddle.

Here we shall merely add to what has already been brought forward a few further proofs from Luther’s own day.

Andreas Proles (†1503), Vicar General of the Saxon Augustinian Congregation and founder of the reformed branch which Luther himself joined on entering the monastery, reminds the working classes in one of his sermons of the honour, the duty, and the worth of work. “Since man is born to labour as the bird to fly, he must work unceasingly and never be idle.” He warmly exhorts the secular authorities to prayer, but reminds them still more emphatically of the requirements and the dignity of their calling: “The life of the mighty does not consist in parade but in ruling and discharging their duties towards their people.” He praises voluntary chastity and clerical celibacy, but also points out powerfully that the married state “is for many reasons honourable and praiseworthy in the sight of God and all Christians.”[193]

Gottschalk Hollen, the preacher of Westphalia, was also an Augustinian. In his sermons published at Hagenau in 1517 he displays the highest esteem for the worldly callings. Those classes who worked with their hands did not seem to him in the least contemptible, on the contrary the Christian could give glory to God even by the humblest work; ordinary believers frequently allowed their calling to absorb them in worldly things, but these are not evil or blameworthy. In a special sermon on work he represents such cares as a means of attaining to everlasting salvation. He insists everywhere on a man’s performing the duties of his calling and will not allow of their being neglected for the sake of prayer or of out-of-the-way practices, such as pilgrimages.[194]

Just before Luther made his public appearance two German works of piety described the dignity and the honour of the working state and at the same time insisted on the obligation of labour. They speak of the secular callings as a source of moral and religious duty and the foundation of a happy life well pleasing to God.

The “Wyhegertlin,” printed at Mayence in 1509, says: “When work is done diligently and skilfully both God and man take pleasure in it, and it is a real good work when skilful artisans contribute to God’s glory by their handicraft, by beautiful buildings and images of every kind, and soften men’s hearts so that they take pleasure in the beautiful, and regard every art and handicraft as a gift of God for the profit, comfort and edification of man.”—“For seeing that the Saints also worked and laboured, so shall the Christian learn from their example that by honourable labour he can glorify God, do good and, through God’s mercy, save his own soul.”[195]

In an “Ermanung” of 1513, which also appeared at Mayence, we read: “To work is to serve God according to His command and therefore all must work, the one with his hands, in the field, the house or the workshop, others by art and learning, others again as rulers of the people or other authorities, others by fighting in defence of their country, others again as ghostly ministers of Christ in the churches and monasteries.… Whoever stands idle is a despiser of God’s commands.”[196]

These instances must suffice. Though many others could be quoted, Protestants will, nevertheless, still be found to repeat such statements as the following: “Any appreciation of secular work as something really moral was impossible in the Catholic Church.” “The Catholic view of the Church belittled the secular callings.” “The ethical appreciation of one’s calling is a significant achievement of the reformation on which rests the present division of society.” Luther it was who “discovered the true meaning of callings … which has since become the property of the civilised world.” “The modern ethical conception of one’s calling, which is common to all Protestant nations and which all others lack, was a creation of the reformation,” etc.

Others better acquainted with the Middle Ages have argued, that, though the olden theologians expressed themselves correctly on the importance of secular callings, yet theirs was not the view of the people.—But the above passages, like those previously quoted elsewhere, do not hail from theologians quite ignorant of the world, but from sermons and popular writings. What they reflect is simply the popular ideas and practice.

That errors were made is, of course, quite true. That, at a time when the Church stood over all, the excessive and ill-advised zeal of certain of the clergy and religious did occasionally lead them to belittle unduly the secular callings may readily be admitted; what they did furnished some excuse for the Lutheran reaction.

What above all moved Luther was, however, the fact that he himself had become a layman.

To assert that even the very words “calling” or “vocation” in their modern sense were first coined by him is not in agreement with the facts of the case.

On the contrary, Luther found the German equivalents already current, otherwise he would probably not have introduced them into his translation of the Bible, as he was so anxious to adapt himself to the language in common use amongst the people so as to be perfectly understood by them.[197] It is true that Ecclus. xi. 22, in the pre-Lutheran Bible, e.g. that of Augsburg dating from 1487, was rendered: “Trust God and stay in thy _place_,” whereas in Luther’s—and on this emphasis has been laid—we read: “Trust in God and abide by thy _calling_.” All that can be said is, however, that Luther’s translation here brings out the same meaning rather better. That the word was not coined by Luther, but was common with the people, is clear from what Luther himself says incidentally when speaking of 1 Cor. vii. 20, where the word _vocatio_ (κλῆσις) is used of the call to faith. “And you must know,” he writes, “that the word ‘calling’ does not here mean the state to which a man is called, as when we say your calling is the married state, your calling is the clerical state, etc., each one having his calling from God. It is not of such a calling that the Apostle here speaks,” etc. The expression “as we say” shows plainly that Luther is speaking of a quite familiar term which there was no need for him to invent when translating Ecclus. xi. 22. Much less did he, either then or at any time, invent the “conception of a calling.”

_Luther’s Pessimism Regarding Various Callings. The Peasants_

When olden writers dealt with the relation between the Gospel and the worldly callings as a rule they pointed out with holy pride, that Christianity does not merely esteem every calling very highly but embraces them all with holy charity and cherishes and fosters the various states as sons of a common father. Nothing was so attractive in the great exponents of the Gospel teaching and renovators of the Christian people—for instance in St. Francis of Assisi—as their sympathy, respect and tenderness for every class without exception. The Church’s great men knew how to discover the good in every class, to further it with the means at their disposal and indulgently to set it on its guard against its dangers. They wished to place everything lovingly at the service of the Creator.

Had Luther in reality brought back to humanity the Gospel true and undefiled, as he was so fond of saying, then he should surely have striven, in the spirit of charity and good will, to make known its supernatural social forces to all classes of men, and to become, as the Apostle says, “All things to all men.”

Now, although Luther uses powerful words to describe the dignity of the different worldly callings, on the other hand, he tends at times to depreciate whole classes, this being especially the case when he allows his disappointment to get the better of him. Nor is the contempt openly expressed here counterbalanced by any sufficient recognition of the good, such as might have mollified his hearers and made them forget the ungracious abuse he thundered from his pulpit.

He speaks bitterly of the common people, the proletariate of to-day, to which, according to him, belonged all the lower classes in the towns. Although himself of low extraction he displays very little sympathy for the people. “We must not pipe too much to the mob, for they are fond of raging.… They have no idea of self-restraint or how to exercise it, and each one’s skin conceals five tyrants.”[198] “A donkey must taste the stick and the mob must be ruled by force; of this God was well aware, hence in the hands of the authorities He placed, not a fox’s brush, but a sword.”[199]

He only too frequently accuses the artisan and merchant class, as a whole, of cheating, avarice and laziness. At Wittenberg they may possibly have been exceptionally bad, yet he does not speak sufficiently of their less blameworthy side.

For the soldiers, it is true, he has friendly words of appreciation of their calling; it was for them that he wrote in 1526 a special work, where he replied in the affirmative to the question contained in the title: “Can even men-at-arms be in a state of grace?” Yet even here he does not shrink from bringing forward charges against their calling: “A great part of the men-at-arms are the devil’s own and some of them are actually crammed with devils.… They imagine themselves fire-eaters because they swear shamefully, perpetrate atrocities, and curse and defy the God of Heaven.”[200]

Of the nobles he says in 1523, wishing to promote more frequent marriages between them and those of lower birth:[201] “Must all princes and nobles who are born princes and nobles remain for ever such? What harm is there if a prince takes a burgher’s daughter to wife and contents himself with a burgher’s modest dowry? Or, why should not a noble maid give her hand to a burgher? In the long run it will not do for the nobles always to intermarry with nobles. Although we are not all equal in the sight of the world yet before God we all are equal, all of us children of Adam, creatures of God, and one man as good as another.” These words certainly do not express any lively conviction of the importance of the existing distinctions of rank for society.

It is perfectly true, that, occasionally, Luther has words of praise and recognition for the good qualities of the “fine, pious nobles,” if only on account of those who were inclined to accept his teaching. But far more often he trounces them unmercifully because they either failed to respond or were set on thwarting him. The language in which he writes of them sometimes becomes unspeakably coarse. “They are called nobles and ‘von so-and-so.’ But merd also comes ‘von’ the nobles and might just as well boast of coming from their noble belly, though it stinks and is of no earthly use. Hence this too has a claim to nobility.” Then follows his favourite saying: “We Germans are Germans and Germans we shall remain, i.e. swine and senseless brutes.”[202]

The rulers and the great ones of the Empire were the first to win his favour. The writing “An den Adel,” the first of his so-called “reformation writings,” he addresses to the nobles in the hope of thus attaining his aims by storm. When, however, he was disappointed, and they refused to meet him half-way, he abused the princes and all the secular authorities in Germany and wrote: “God Almighty has made our princes mad”; “such men were formerly rated as knaves, now we are obliged to call them obedient, Christian princes.” To him they were “fools,” simply because they were against him and thus belonged to the multitude who “blasphemed” the Divine Majesty.[203]

After the defeat of the peasants in 1525 he supported those princes favourable to his teaching at the expense of the peasants, so that the latter were loud in their complaints of him. In this connection, looking back at the overthrow of the Peasant Revolt, he wrote to those in power: “Who opposed the peasants more vigorously by word and writing than I? … and, if it comes to boasting, I do not know who else was the first to vanquish the peasants, or to do so most effectually. But now those who did the least claim all the honour and glory of it.”[204]

After the Peasant War he was so filled with hatred of the peasant class and so conscious of their dislike for himself personally, as to be hardly able to speak of them without blame and reproach. “The peasants do not deserve,” he says, “the harvests and fruits that the earth brings forth and provides.”

Of all classes the peasants around Wittenberg incurred his displeasure most severely. “They are all going to the devil,” he says when lamenting that, “out of so many villages, only one man taught his household from the Word of God”; with the young country folk “something” could be done, but the old peasants had been utterly corrupted by the Pope; this was also the complaint of the Evangelical deacons who came in touch with them.[205]—“I am very angry with the peasants,” he wrote in 1529, “who are anxious to govern themselves and who do not appreciate their good fortune in being able to sleep in peace owing to the help and protection of the rulers. You helpless, boorish yokels and donkeys,” he says to them, “will you never learn to understand? May the lightning blast you!—You have the best of it.… You have the Mark and yet are so ungrateful as to refuse to pray for the rulers or to give them anything.”[206]

As a matter of fact, however, the great ones did not wait for the peasants to “give” anything.

They oppressed the country people and plundered them. Melanchthon wrote, particularly after 1525, of the boundless despotism of the authorities over the people on the land. Since the overthrow of the social revolution very sad changes had taken place among the agriculturists. The violent “laying of the yokels” became a general evil, and, in place of the small holdings of the peasant class—the most virile and largest portion of the nation—arose the large estates of the nobles. Not merely where the horrors of war had raged, but even elsewhere, e.g. in the north-east of Germany, the peasant found himself deprived of his rights and left defenceless in the hands of the Junkers and knights.[207] “The reformation-age made his rights to his property and his standing more parlous than before.”[208]

What Luther says of serfdom, the oppression and abuse of which had led to the Peasant Rising, is worthy of record: “Serfdom,” he says, “is not contrary to Christianity, and whoever says it is tells a lie!”[209]—“Christ does not wish to abolish serfdom. What cares He how the lords or princes rule [in secular matters]?”[210]