Chapter III: Martin Luther (1)

Notwithstanding the fact that the papacy had universal sway over Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century, it must be noted that, from the beginning of the fourteenth century on, there were insurgents, however varied their cries and watchwords, who were persistent in their denunciation of the priesthood. The hatred arose from their intolerable extortions, which were a galling burden. While the tithing system was an intolerable yoke, the rapacity of the priests went far beyond tithes in their exactions. In speaking of this condition, Seebohm, a Spanish historian, says:

I see that we can scarcely get anything from Christ's ministers but
for money; at baptism money, at marriage money, at bishoping money,
for confession money--no, not extreme unction without money! They ring
no bells without money, no burials in the Church without money; so
that it seems that Paradise is shut up from them that have no money.
The rich is buried in the church, the poor in the churchyard. The rich
man may marry his nearest kin, but the poor not so, albeit he is ready
to die for love of her. The rich may eat meat in Lent, but the poor
may not, albeit fish be much dearer. The rich may readily get large
indulgences, but the poor none, because he wanteth money to pay for
them. ("The Era of the Protestant Revolution," pages 57, 58.)

All the efforts at reformation had always ignominiously failed, and the papacy with all its abuses had never been more powerful than at the time John Tetzel was trafficking in indulgences. Just thirty-four years before this time, Martin Luther was born. His parents were poor, but it was their desire to give him the best education possible. When he was fourteen years old they sent him to school at Magdeburg, where he relied upon the liberality of well-meaning citizens to supply his needs. The tuition was free at Magdeburg, but the students were required to provide their own lodgings and meals. The usual custom was for a company of poor boys to band themselves together and sing in the front of the house of the wealthy citizens. Sometimes they would be invited to a meal; at other times they would receive the remnants of a repast or at least some slices of bread.

After a year had gone by his father decided to send him to Eisenach, because he hoped that some of his relatives would take a kindly interest in him; but in this expectation he was mistaken, for as before he was compelled to beg and sing for his bread. Many times young Luther became so discouraged that he made up his mind to return to his home and become a miner like his father. But a very different life was awaiting him. When he had acquired the discipline resulting from the long struggle with poverty, a great change took place.

A FRIEND INDEED

One day, after having been harshly treated at three houses, he was preparing to return fasting to his lodgings; he stopped motionless in front of a house and reflected, "Must I for the want of food give up my studies and return with my father in the mines?" when suddenly a door opens and Madame Ursula Cotta, the wife of a wealthy merchant, stood on the threshold. She had heard the harsh words that had been addressed to him, and, seeing him standing thus sadly before her door, she came to his aid, beckoned to him to enter, and gave him food to satisfy his hunger. She and her husband took a liking to him, and offered him a place at their table and in their family, where he remained for three years. Thus were brought into his life the influences of gentleness and refinement.

A new life now opened to him. Free from care and anxiety as to his sustenance, he was able to devote his whole time to his studies. Here noble influences, very necessary for his future work, surrounded him, teaching him the fine and gentle traits of good breeding that elevated life above the struggle for mere existence and gave to it its peculiar charm. "The strength of his understanding, the liveliness of his imagination, the excellence of his memory, soon carried him beyond all his school fellows."

These years of his school period contributed much towards promoting that higher education which his father was so very anxious that he should obtain. Thus furnished, in the summer of 1501, in his eighteenth year, he entered the University of Erfurt. Here he applied himself diligently and made rapid progress. He did not merely study to cultivate his intellect. He had serious thoughts about God, and fervently invoked the divine blessings to rest upon his labors. He passed all the time that he could possibly spare from his studies in the university library. Books were very scarce, and it was a great privilege for him to have access to the "great collection of books there brought together." After having been in the university for two years, one day, to his great surprise and delight, he found a copy of the Bible, the first that he had ever seen. His interest was greatly excited. "He was filled with astonishment at finding other matters than those fragments of the Gospels and Epistles that the Church had selected to be read to the people during public worship throughout the year. Until this day he had imagined that they composed the whole Word of God." And now he sees so much of which he had never thought! With eagerness and great emotion he turned its pages. The first passage on which he fixed his attention was the story of Hannah and Samuel, which gave him unbounded joy. He returned to his room with a full heart, saying, "Oh, that God would give me such a book for myself!" The copy of the Bible that had filled him with so much joy was in Latin. After this he returned to the library again and again to pore over this wonderful treasure, and thus the glimmerings of new truth were beginning to dawn upon his mind. "In that Bible the Reformation lay hid."

BECOMES A MONK

Luther's father required him to study law. At considerable expense the necessary books had been purchased, and he had begun to attend lectures on jurisprudence; but for the calling he had no love; and yet, from a sense of obedience to his father, he felt it his duty to follow the path he had prescribed. He was, however, frequently disturbed by the thought of the endangered spiritual condition of those who followed the legal profession. This conflict quickened within him the sense of his relation to the higher law, on which his obedience to his father was based. The sudden death of a friend followed shortly afterward by a narrow escape from death by lightning, in a forest on the way between Erfurt and Eisleben, determined him to obey what he then regarded as the commands of higher law. Terrified by the violence of the storm that was raging around him, and especially by the bolts of lightning that were crashing through the trees, addressing one of the patron saints of his childhood, he cried out: "Help me, dear Saint Anna, I will be a monk!"

The vow thus made was faithfully performed. Two weeks later, July 16, 1505, he invited his most intimate friends to a cheerful but frugal supper. For the last time he determined to enjoy music and song. The decision once made all sadness was gone. His intention was to tell no one of his decision, but at the very moment his guests were giving way to their gayety, he could no longer control the serious thoughts that filled his mind. They endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, but all in vain. Sorrowfully they accompanied him the next morning to the Augustinian cloister located in the town, where he knocked for admission. As they opened, he entered. When the heavy portals of the monastery closed behind him, and the bars were fastened again, he had no idea but that he was separated from the world forever. The great struggle was at an end. Was his soul satisfied? Had he found that for which he was looking--the "peace that passeth all understanding"? We shall see in our next.

Luther was received among the novices of the monastery with sacred hymns, prayers and other solemnities. After this he was given over to the care of the master of the novices, whose duty it was to initiate them into the practices of the monastic sanctity, to observe their actual conduct, and to watch over their souls. Above all things, the will of the novices were to be entirely broken. They were to learn that everything enjoined upon them was to be performed without the least resistance, and even to be the more willing to render obedience the more it was against their own disposition and taste. Inclination to pride was to be overcome by imposing upon them the meanest services. So at the very beginning of Luther's monastic life he was compelled to perform the most degrading work in sweeping and scrubbing, and it afforded those envious of him peculiar pleasure when he, the hitherto proud young master, was ordered, with a sack upon his shoulders, to beg through the town in company with a more experienced brother. He did not shirk from these services; but even desired to perform self-mortifying duties, so that he might the more deserve God's favors. Of these days Luther says:

I chose for myself twenty-one saints, read mass every day, calling on
three of them each day, so as to complete the circuit every week;
especially did I invoke the Holy Virgin, as her womanly heart was more
easily touched, that she might appease her Son. I verily thought that
by invoking three saints daily, and by letting my body waste away with
fastings and watchings, I should satisfy the law, and shield my
conscience against the goad; but it all availed me nothing: the
further I went on in this way the more I was terrified.

From this we see that Luther subjected himself to every possible form of discipline and mortification. He was a model of monkish piety. He says, "If ever a monk got to heaven by monkery, I would have gotten there." No one could surpass him in prayers by day and night, in fasting, in vigils, self-discipline and self-mortification, and yet--had he found what his soul was looking for? There is no mistake. He is as far from peace of conscience as ever. He read the Bible, but a veil was before his eyes. Christ was still to his mind a merciless judge. The righteousness of God, which, according to Paul, was revealed in the Gospel, he took to mean the righteousness which metes out just punishment.

Finally, John Staupitz, the vicar-general of the Augustinian order, a man of sympathetic nature, and one who possessed in a singular degree the power to discern and appreciate the needs of whomsoever applied to him for aid, came to his rescue. Looking into the haggard face of Luther, he said: "Brother, you must obey God and believe in forgiveness." "You have altogether a wrong idea of Christ. Christ does not terrify; his office is to comfort." "You must make up your mind that you are a very sinner, and that Christ is a very Savior." These were starting points for new currents of thought. They shed light upon many passages of scripture. For days and weeks Luther pondered over these words: "The Gospel is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; ... For therein is revealed a righteousness of God from faith unto faith: as it is written, But the righteous shall live by faith" (Rom. 1:16, 17). Many years after receiving this help, Luther wrote:

If Dr. Staupitz, or, rather, God, through Dr. Staupitz, had not aided
me in this, I would have been long since in hell.

Luther now devoted himself earnestly to the study of theology. Among other writings, he read those of Augustine more frequently and fixed them more thoroughly in his memory than any others. In 1508 his scholarship received acknowledgement by a call to the chair of philosophy in the newly-founded University of Wittenburg. As a professor he made rapid progress, and soon reached a position of great responsibility and influence.

MAKES A PILGRIMAGE TO ROME

"To make a pilgrimage to Rome; to confess in the Holy City all his sins committed from early youth; to visit the many sacred places, sacred to the memory of saints and martyrs; to avail himself of the rich influences offered there; to read mass in Rome--had been a long-cherished hope of the young monk. Hardly had he dared to look for its realization." But all of a sudden he was sent by Staupitz to Rome to assist in the settlement of some difficulties which had arisen in the management of the monastic order. On foot, from monastery to monastery, he and his companion went across the Alps, and by the picturesque plain of Lombardy passed into Italy. Everywhere his eyes were opened, and important lessons for the future were learned.

The first sight of Rome inspired him with great enthusiasm. It was a great moment to him. He fell upon the ground, and, with outstretched hands, exclaimed, "Hail, thou Holy City!" The visit continued four weeks, giving him ample time to see the ruins of the Colosseum, the Baths of Dioclesian, the Pantheon, and other remains of past glory. He visited also the catacombs and other places made sacred by the sufferings of martyrs, and, above all, those churches and shrines where "special grace" could be obtained.

The chief attraction, however, was not that of sight-seeing, but the spiritual blessings that he hoped to receive. It was his purpose to make while there an unreserved confession of all the sins that he had ever committed. Although he had made such confession twice before at Erfurt, he expected an especial blessing from the same confession, if made in the "Holy City." Mass he celebrated a number of times, and actually wished that his parents were dead, because, by such services at Rome, he thought that he could have been able to deliver them from purgatory.

But in all this he found no satisfaction for his mind; on the contrary, there was aroused in him a consciousness of another way to salvation which had previously taken root in his heart. While he was painfully climbing on his knees in devout prayer the steps of the identical staircase, as was superstitiously believed, which formerly led up to the palace of Pilate in Jerusalem--in order to receive the rich blessings promised by several popes upon all who would perform this meritorious deed--again and again as he struggled up the stairway, the words of Paul--"the just shall live by faith"--came to him as though uttered in tones of thunder. But Luther never became sensible of any blessing.

Even Rome did not give to his soul the peace for which he longed. On the contrary, his sojourn in the "Holy City," brief though it was, sufficed to convince him that Rome could never supply the needs of his spiritual nature. The high ideals of the sanctity of the worship of the saintly life of the pope and the other ecclesiastical dignitaries, which filled his own soul with aspirations and stimulated him to like endeavors, were rudely shattered. What he saw and heard in Rome was the very opposite of what he had expected. Instead of piety he found levity; instead of holiness he met lasciviousness; instead of seeing pure spirituality, he beheld nothing but carnal-mindedness, greed and self-seeking. Religion was but the cloak which covered up the shame and vice. The white garments of the Church were polluted with the stains of the most disgraceful and carnal manner of living. Wherever he turned he saw hypocrisy and sin. Everything that was to him an object of holy adoration was made the butt of blasphemous jests. Of the impressions made on his mind he wrote:

Nobody can form an idea of the licentiousness, vice and shame that is
in vogue in Rome. Nobody would believe it unless he could see it with
his own eyes and hear it with his own ears. Rome was once the holiest
city, now it is the vilest. It is true what has been said, "If there
be a hell, Rome must be built over it."

Yet in spite of all he saw and heard, he "loved the grand old Church" with all his heart. He did not return from Rome an enemy of the Church, nor even intending to reform it. But if ever a man left the "Holy City" thrust down from the heights of zeal and enthusiasm to the very depths of despair, wounded and crushed in spirit, it was the plain, honest Luther. This experience, however, was but another step in his preparation, for he says:

I would not take a thousand florins for missing that visit to Rome. I
would constantly fear that I had wronged the pope. But now I can speak
of what I have seen myself.

PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY AT WITTENBURG

When Luther returned from Rome to Wittenburg in the early summer of 1512, Staupitz sent him to Erfurt to complete his training for the doctorate in theology. His advancement was so rapid that by the time he reached his twenty-ninth year he found himself not only installed in a professorship of Theology at Wittenburg, but also with the main responsibility resting upon him for all instruction that was to be given. From that time the presence of Staupitz was not frequent. In this position he did not hesitate to break through all traditional modes of theological instruction.

Luther was still a genuine monk, with no doubt of his vocation. He became the sub-prior of the Wittenburg Monastery in 1512, and was made district vicar over eleven monasteries in 1515. These administrative duties occasioned frequent interruptions of his professional and literary labors. It was his duty, by means of visitations and frequent correspondence, to learn the condition and decide concerning the necessities of each monastery and its inmates. The already thoroughly occupied professor was thus called to a truly pastoral care of an extensive and difficult field. To every one in doubts and perplexities, like those which agitated him, he sought to give the full benefit of his experience.

So far as the record shows, Luther first heard of Tetzel in 1516, just as he was beginning his visitation of the churches. It was reported to him that Tetzel was making a great noise, and some of his extravagant sentiments, which I have already quoted, were related to him, and when he heard this he indignantly exclaimed, "If God permit, I will make a hole in his drum!" Shortly after this he gave warning, not against indulgences, but what he regarded their abuse. "What should be regarded with all reverence," said he, "has become a horrid means of pampering avarice, since it is not the salvation of souls, but solely pecuniary profit that is in view."

He justified the intentions of the pope, but charged that Tetzel had misinterpreted and misapplied them. In a sermon delivered February 24, 1517, he grows in severity. "Indulgences," he declared, "are teaching the people to dread the punishment of sin, instead of sin itself. If it were not to escape the punishment for sin, no one would care about indulgences, even if offered gratuitously."

As Tetzel drew near to Wittenburg, attracting larger crowds to his preaching, and as some over whom Luther had spiritual jurisdiction sought to excuse themselves from worshiping of relict and of engaging in revolting sins by producing letters of indulgence obtained from Tetzel, he could not, by silence, connive at what would have carried with it the violation of his fidelity as a spiritual guide. Still it was only after much hesitation, after many of his friends had urged him to interfere, and in deep distress of mind, that he resolved to protest. When he had determined to do something he went about the matter with a mixture of caution and courage.

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES

The Church of All-Saints in Wittenburg had always been intimately connected with the university; its doors were used as boards on which to publish important academic documents; and notices of public "disputations," common enough at the time, had frequently appeared there. The day of the year which drew the largest concourse of townsmen and strangers to the church was All-Saints Day, so on the day before, October 31, 1517, Luther nailed the Ninety-five Theses protesting against what he regarded as the abuse of indulgences, to the door of the church. Crowds of eager students gathered for hours before the door of the church, intent upon reading and copying the sensational document. The first effect upon those nearest Luther was stunning. Whatever their abhorrence of the methods of Tetzel, and their dissatisfaction of the whole system which admitted of such manifest abuses, the impression was that he had spoken inadvisedly. His colleagues were apprehensive of the results for the university. The Augustinian monks saw the stake in the foreground, and dreaded the disgrace which Luther's presence among them would cast upon their order. For the moment, Luther stood alone at Wittenburg, but copies of the Latin original and translations of it into German were sent to the university printing house and the presses could not print them fast enough to meet the demand which came from all parts of Germany, and "in four weeks they were diffused throughout all Christendom, as though the angels were the postmen." The result was unexpected and startling to Luther.

Many approved Luther's course, saying that the man who was to break the tyranny of the papacy had arisen. In the meantime the opposition was industriously gathering its forces, but the controversy increased the popularity of the theses. Luther was summoned to Rome to answer for his attack on the Indulgence system. To have disobeyed would have meant death. This peremptory summons was construed as an affront to the University of Wittenburg. The officials of the university interfered, with the result that the summons to Rome was canceled and it was arranged that the matter was to be left in the hands of the Papal Legate Cajetan in Germany, and Luther was ordered to present himself before the official at Augsburg. The interview was not satisfactory. The cardinal demanded that Luther should recant his heresies without any argument. When pressed to say what the heresies were, he named the statement in fifty-eighth thesis that the merits of Christ work effectually without the intervention of the pope, and that which said that the sacraments are not efficacious apart from faith in the recipient. There was some discussion, notwithstanding the cardinal's declaration; but in the end Luther was ordered to recant or depart. Luther appealed to a general council and returned to Wittenburg.

On returning to Wittenburg Luther's first task was to prepare for the press an account of his interview with Cardinal Cajetan, the pope's representative at Augsburg. He was careful to take the people of Germany into his confidence, and published an account of every important interview he had; thus the people were able to follow him step by step, and he was never so far in advance that they were unable to see his footprints. The immediate effect of the report was an immense outburst of sympathy for him.

Soon after the interview at Augsburg, the papal court reached the conclusion that it would be to their interest to win him by compromise and kindness. Miltitz, a papal chamberlain, was sent to Germany. On reaching there he found that "the state of matters was undreamt of at the papal court." He saw that Cajetan had never perceived that he had not only to deal with Luther, but with the slow movement of the German nation. He found that three out of five of the people stood with Luther. He wisely resolved that he would see both Luther and Tetzel privately before producing his credentials. Tetzel he could not see, for it was dangerous for him to stir from his convent, so greatly was he in danger from violence of the people. On meeting Luther, he at once disowned the speeches of Tetzel; showed that he was not pleased with Cajetan's methods of action; and so prevailed on Luther that he promised to write a submissive letter to the pope, to advise the people to reverence the Roman Church, and to say that indulgences were useful in the remission of canonical penances.

The letter was actually written and the language is replete with expressions of condescension, and it exalts the Roman Church above everything but Christ himself. He also promised to discontinue the controversy if his opponents would do the same. But Miltitz was not supported by the Roman court, and he had also to reckon with John Eck, who was burning with a desire to vanquish Luther in a public discussion.

The time between his interview at Augsburg and the discussion with the vainglorious John Eck was spent by Luther in hard and disquieting studies. His opponents had confronted him with the pope's absolute supremacy in all ecclesiastical matters, and this was one of his oldest inherited beliefs. The Roman Church had been for him "the pope's house," in which the pope was the house-father, to whom all obedience was due. It was hard for him to think otherwise. He re-examined his convictions about justifying and attempted to trace clearly their consequences, and whether they did lead to his declarations about the efficacy of indulgences. He came to no other conclusion. He also investigated the evidence for the papal claim of absolute authority, and found that it rested on the strength of a collection of decretals many of which were plainly forgeries. Under the combined influence of historical study, of the opinions of the early "church fathers," and of the Holy Scriptures, one of his oldest landmarks crumbled to pieces. His mind was in a whirl of doubt. He was half-exultant and half-terrified at the result of his studies; and his correspondence shows how his mind changed from week to week. "It was while he was thus 'on the swither,' tremulously on the balance, that John Eck challenged him to dispute at Leipzig on the primacy and supremacy of the Roman pontiff." Luther accepted the challenge, thinking that the discussion might clear the air, and might enable him to see more clearly where he stood.

DEBATES WITH JOHN ECK AND BURNS THE PAPAL BULL

The discussion began June 27th and closed July 15, 1519. This is the first time Luther ever met a controversialist of European fame. Eck came to Leipzig from his triumphs at the great debates at Vienna and Bologna, and was and felt himself to be the hero of the occasion. Eck's intention was to force his opponent to make some declaration which would justify him in charging Luther with being a partisan of the medieval heretics, and especially of the Hussites. He continually led the debate away to the Waldenses, the Wycliffites, and the Bohemians. The audience was swayed with a wave of excitement when Luther was gradually forced to admit that "the Hussite doctrines are not all wrong." Throughout the debate Eck's deportment was that of a man striving to overcome his opponent rather than one striving to win a victory for the truth. There was as much sophistry as good reasoning in his arguments; he continually misquoted Luther's words or gave them a meaning they were not intended to convey.

"Triumphant, lauded by his friends, and recompensed with favor and honor by Duke George, Eck departed from the debate." He had done what he had meant to do. He had made Luther declare himself. In his estimation, all that was needed was a papal bull against Luther, and the world would be rid of another pestilent heretic. He had made him the central figure around which all the smoldering discontent could gather. As for Luther, he returned to Wittenberg, disgusted and full of melancholy foreboding. This did not prevent him preparing and publishing for his people an account of the discussion, which was eagerly read and gained for him great favor. In some respects the Leipzig debate was the most important point in the career of Luther. It made him see for the first time what lay in his opposition to indulgences. It made the people see it, too. His attack was no criticism, as he had at first thought, of a mere excrescence on the medieval ecclestiastical system. He had struck at its center: at its ideas of priestly mediation which denied the right of every believer to immediate entrance into the very presence of God.

Great men now came to the support of Luther, including Philip Melanchthon, one of the greatest scholars of the age. The conflict between Rome and Luther became one of life and death. In September, 1520, Eck again appeared in Germany with a papal bull against Luther, dated June 15th. It condemned as heresies forty-one propositions extracted from his writings, ordered his works to be burned wherever they were found, and summoned him on pain of excommunication, to confess and retract his errors within sixty days, and to throw himself upon the mercy of the pope. This bull fight brought Luther to a step decisive beyond recall. He met this threat of violence with unshakable courage. He at once "carried the war into the heart of the enemy's territory. In the presence of a vast multitude of all ranks and orders, he burned the papal bull, and with it the decree, the decretals, the Clementines, and extravagants, the entire code of Romish canon law, as the root of all the evil, December 10, 1520."

When the news spread that a poor monk had burnt the pope's bull, a thrill went through Germany, and, indeed, throughout all Europe. Papal bulls had been burnt before Luther's day, but the actors had for the most part been powerful monarchs. This time it was done by a monk with nothing but his faith and courage to back him.

Rome had now done its utmost to get rid of Luther by ecclesiastical measures, and had failed. If he was to be overthrown, if the new religious movement and the national uprising which indorsed it were to be stifled, this could only be done by the aid of the supreme secular authority. The Roman court now turned attention to the emperor.

Emperor Maximilian died January 12, 1519, and after some months of papal intriguing, his grandson, Charles, the King of Spain, was chosen to be his successor. Troubles in Spain prevented his leaving that country at once to take possession of his new dignities. He was finally crowned on October 20, 1520, and opened his first German diet, at Worms, January 22, 1521.

After the coronation, and especially after the burning of the pope's bull, every step was toward Worms. The decision of the Roman court had not settled the case as to Luther; the bull was slow in getting itself executed; very many thought it were better not executed. Men's minds were not at rest--they wished for some other tribunal to which the case might be referred; in the absence of a general council, the highest authority in the Roman Church, they thought of the emperor and the diet, the highest authority in the State. But if Luther were to appear before the diet, it was not at all clear what the diet was to demand of him or to do with him. There was no need that judgment should be passed upon him; the pope had already condemned him. It was not necessary that the diet should order his execution; the bull made it the duty of any prince to do that without any order. He might be required to retract his teaching, but that had already been done by the bull. If the diet should undertake to hear his cause, that would be a virtual denial of the pope's supremacy, and an acknowledgment of the justice of Luther's complaint that he had been condemned unheard. Both parties felt that for the diet to do anything was a reflection on the pope; and yet it was evidently necessary for the diet to do something.

The emperor, too, felt the difficulty. He was a politician from his youth, and his conduct toward the pope, even from the first, was affected by political considerations; but apart from these things, there was sufficient reason for his hesitation and vacillation. He was influenced now by one party now by the other or, as is likely, now by his own independent judgment and now by what seemed to be required of him by his position as the civil head of the Church. On November 28, 1520, he wrote to the Elector of Saxony, directing him to bring Luther to Worms, "in order to give him there a full hearing before the learned and competent persons," and promising that no harm should come to him; in the meantime, the elector was to require of Luther to write nothing against the pope. The emperor was acting on the suggestion of the elector, but between the time of this suggestion and the time of the elector's receiving the letter things had been changed--by the burning of his books he had been treated as a condemned heretic. This offended the elector, and he wrote the emperor declining to require Luther's presence at the diet. The emperor, too, had changed; he had begun to realize that Luther was under the papal ban, and that any place in which he might be was declared under the interdict. Luther, therefore, could not be permitted to come to Worms. If he would not retract what he had said against the papacy he was to stay at home until the emperor should have opportunity to confer with the elector personally.

BEFORE THE DIET OF WORMS

The diet met on January 22, 1521, and on February 10th there came a brief from Rome making final Luther's excommunication, urging his condemnation by the diet and emperor. But there was evident reluctance to proceed against him; something might be accomplished by negotiations. The pope had selected Marino Carraccioli and Jerome Aleander to wait on the young emperor and to represent his case before the diet. Aleander was a clearsighted, courageous and indefatigable diplomatist, a pure worldling, a man of indifferent morals, who believed that every man had his price, and that law and selfish motives were alone to be reckoned with. The defeat of the papacy at Worms was not due to any lack of thoroughness of his work. He had spies everywhere--in the households of the emperor and of the leading princes, and among the population of Worms. He did not hesitate to lie when he thought it useful to the Roman Church. The Roman court had put upon him the difficult task of putting Luther under the ban of the empire at once and unheard.

His speech before the diet was long and eloquent, but weakened by his bitterness and vehemence. He said he spoke in defense of the papal throne, which was so dear to them all. He enumerated the heresies taught in Luther's works. Luther was obstinate, disobedient to the pope's summons, refused to be instructed; the pope had condemned him, and it was the emperor's duty to enforce the condemnation; the laity had nothing to do with such questions except to carry out the pope's decrees; ruin would follow if Luther was not condemned; a decree from the diet and the emperor would restore quiet, and preserve the Church and empire. Such were the considerations urged by Aleander. He sat down amid murmurs of approbation, but he had made no new points, given no fresh reasons.

A few days afterward a representative German, Duke George of Saxony, already Luther's enemy, presented the case of Germany against the pope. There were many things of which he complained, exactions and usurpations, the growth and accumulation of years. A committee of the diet was appointed to draft the grievances, and brought in a long list. With so many grievances against the pope already the diet was in no hurry to take the pope's part against a popular German; the condemnation of Luther, and especially the manner of condemnation, was itself another grievance.

The law required the execution of the pope's bull, and was against granting to a condemned heretic a new hearing before a secular tribunal. It was a case in which the law demanded one thing and expediency and justice another. After a long discussion in the diet it was "held stoutly that no countryman of theirs should be placed under the ban of the empire without being heard in his defense, and that they and not the pope of Rome were to be the judges in the matter."

There was open opposition between the emperor and the diet, and abundant secret intrigue--"an edict proposed against Luther, which the diet refused to accept; an edict proposed to order the burning of Luther's books, which the diet also objected to; this edict revised and limited to seizure of Luther's writings, which was also found fault with by the diet; and, finally, the emperor issuing this revised edict of his own authority and without the consent of the diet."

The command to appear before the diet on April 16, 1521, and the safe conduct were delivered to Luther on March 26th. He was to face in a practical way the question of going to the diet, and for him and his friends the crisis had come. Many of Luther's associates at Wittenberg endeavored to dissuade him from obeying the emperor's mandate. Well it was for his fame, work and cause that he refused to heed their advice. These good-intentioned, but faint-hearted, colleagues were advising him to take a fatal step, one that would have been more damaging to his work than all the machinations of his foes; that would, in fact, have been playing his enemies' game, and bringing the Reformation in Germany to a sudden close. A crisis had been reached where a failure in moral courage in Luther would have ruined everything. He rose to the occasion, and his moral stature was disclosed to the whole world.

The journey seemed to the indignant papists like a royal progress; crowds came to bless the man who had stood for the people against the pope, and they believed he was going to his death for his courage. The nearer he came to Worms, the fiercer became the disputes there. Friends and foes found that his presence would prove oil thrown into the flames. The emperor regretted having sent the summons. Messengers were dispatched secretly to endeavor to prevent his coming. Just as he was approaching the city a messenger from one of his best friends in great alarm said: "Do not enter Worms!" But Luther, undismayed, turned to him and said: "Go and tell your master that even should there be as many devils in Worms as tiles on the housetops, still I would enter it."

On the morning of April 16th Luther entered the city, accompanied by fully two thousand persons. The citizens eagerly pressed forward to see him, and every moment the crowd was increasing. It was much greater than the public entry of the emperor. The news of his arrival filled both friend and foe with great alarm. On the next morning the "marshal of the empire cited him to appear at four o'clock before his imperial majesty and the states of the empire." Luther received this summons with profound respect. Thus everything was arranged. At four o'clock the marshal appeared, and Luther set out with him. He was agitated at the thoughts of the solemn congress before which he was about to appear. The streets were so densely crowded that they advanced with great difficulty. At length they reached the doors of the hall, which were opened to them. Luther went in, and with him entered many persons who formed no portion of the diet. And now was enacted "the most splendid scene in history." As has been aptly said:

Never had man appeared before so imposing an assembly. The Emperor
Charles V, whose sovereignty extended over a great part of the old and
new world; his brother, Archduke Ferdinand; six electors of the
empire, most of whose descendants now wear the kingly crown;
twenty-four dukes, the majority of whom were independent sovereigns
over countries more or less extensive, and among whom were some whose
names afterward became formidable to the Reformation--the Duke of Alva
and his two sons; eight margraves, thirty archbishops, bishops, and
abbots; seven ambassadors, including those from the kings of France
and England; the deputies of ten free cities; a great number of
princes, counts, and sovereign barons; the papal nuncios--in all two
hundred and four persons. Such was the imposing court before which
appeared Martin Luther. The appearance was of itself a signal victory
over the papacy. The pope had condemned the man, and yet there he
stood before a tribunal which by this very act, set itself above the
pope. The pope had laid him under an interdict, and cut him off from
all human society; and yet he was summoned in respectful language, and
received before the most august assembly in the world. The pope had
condemned him to perpetual silence, and yet he was now about to speak
before thousands of attentive hearers drawn together from the farthest
parts of Christendom. An immense revolution had thus been effected by
Luther's instrumentality. Rome was already descending from her throne,
and it was the voice of a monk that caused this humiliation.
(D'Aubigne's History of the Reformation, p. 240.)

Into the presence of this august body Luther was led, and the sight of this great assemblage of dignitaries almost paralyzed him. The marshal commanded him not to speak unless he was spoken to, and to answer promptly and truly all questions put to him. The court was conducted with great pomp, but all its solemn apparatus was an empty pageant; for however Luther might defend himself, the sentence had been already arranged with Rome. Aleander had arranged the procedure. After a moment of solemn silence John Eck rose and said in a loud and clear voice:

Martin Luther, his sacred and invincible imperial majesty has cited
you before his throne, in accordance with the advice and counsel of
the States of the holy Roman empire, to require you to answer two
questions: (1) Do you acknowledge these books to have been written by
you? [At the same time pointing to twenty books on a table directly in
front of Luther.] (2) Are you prepared to retract these books, and
their contents, or do you persist in the opinions you have advanced in
them?

It was then requested that the titles of the books be read, which was done, and Luther acknowledged them to be his. He was again asked, "Will you retract the doctrines therein?" Then Luther, after having briefly and precisely repeated the questions put to him, said:

I can not deny that the books named are mine, and I will never deny
any of them; they are all my offspring. But as to what follows,
whether I shall reaffirm in the same terms all, or shall retract what
I may have uttered beyond the authority of Scripture--because the
matter involves a question of faith and of the salvation of souls, and
because it concerns the Word of God, which is the highest thing in
heaven and on earth, and which we all must reverence--it would be
dangerous and rash in me to make any unpremeditated declaration,
because in unpremeditated speech I might say something less than the
facts and something more than the truth; besides, I remember the
saying of Christ when he declared, "Whosoever shall deny me before
men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven, and
before his holy angels." For these reasons I beg, with all respect,
that your Imperial Majesty give me time to deliberate, that I may
answer the question without injury to the Word of God and without
peril to my own soul.

Luther made his answer in such a low voice that those who were sitting near him could scarcely hear him. Many present inferred that Luther's low voice indicated that his spirit was broken, and that he was greatly alarmed. But from what followed it is evident that Luther's whole procedure on this first appearance before the diet was intended to defeat the intrigues of Aleander, which had for their aim to prevent Luther addressing the diet in a long speech; and in this he succeeded.

The emperor expressed the opinion that the question was one for which Luther ought to be prepared to make immediate answer; but after much delay and consultation with his advisers he granted Luther's request for a postponement until the next day at the same hour. Then he was required to present himself before the diet on April 18th. After he had been called on the following day, Eck began by reproving him for asking for further time for consideration, and then proceeded to put a second question, somewhat modified and more in conformity to the ideals of the States: "Will you defend all the books that you have acknowledged as your own, or recant some of them?"

Luther had now freed himself from the web of intrigue that Aleander had so skillfully woven around him to compel him to silence, and stood forth a free German to plead his cause before the most illustrious audience Germany could offer to any of her sons, before which he made a deliberate reply in a firm and decided tone. He divided his books into three classes. The first were written for the edification of believers, and his adversaries admitted them to be harmless, and even useful. He could not retract these. Were he to do it, he would be the only man doing so. In other books he had attacked pernicious laws and doctrines of the papacy, which, as no one could deny, tortured the consciences of Christians and also tyrannically devoured the property of the German nation; if he should recant these he would be but adding to the force of the Roman tyranny, and opening, not merely the windows, but the doors, to great impiety, and make himself a disgraceful abettor of wickedness and oppression. In the third place, he had written against persons who defend and sanction this tyranny, and aiming at annihilating these pious teachings; against them he said he had possibly been more severe than he should have been, and that he did not claim that his conduct had always been faultless. "But the question," said he, "is not concerning my conduct, but concerning the doctrine of Christ; and therefore I could not recant these writings, for Rome would make use of such disavowal to extend her oppression. I demand the evidence against me, and a fair trial. I stand here ready, if any one can prove me to have written falsely, to recant my errors, and to throw my books into the fire with my own hands." In conclusion he uttered an earnest admonition to the emperor, and the empire, that instead of securing peace and quiet by a condemnation of the divine Word, they would, on the other hand, open the floodgate of untold miseries and evils that can not be conceived. He did not mean to say that his distinguished hearers required this admonition, but that he could not refrain from discharging this duty in behalf of his beloved Germany.

"It was a brave speech, a strong speech, delivered with self-possession and in a clear voice that could be heard by the whole assembly--a striking contrast in every way to his manner of the previous day." When Luther had finished, Eck addressed him in a threatening manner, and told him that he had not answered the question; that this was not an occasion for general discussion, but to ascertain from him whether he would retract his errors. "In some of your books you deny the decision of councils and that they have often erred and contradicted the Holy Scriptures. Will you recant or reaffirm what you have said about them? The emperor demands a plain answer."

To which Luther replied:

Well then, since His Imperial Majesty wants a plain answer, I will
give him one without horns or teeth. Unless I am convinced of error by
the testimony of Scriptures or clear arguments--for I believe neither
the pope nor the councils alone, which have erred and contradicted
each other often--I am convinced by the passages of Scripture which I
have cited, and my conscience is bound by the Word of God. I can not
and will not recant anything, for it is neither safe nor right to act
against one's conscience. Such is my profession of faith, and expect
no other from me. Here I stand, I can not do otherwise. God help me,
Amen!

In astonishment, the emperor suggested the question whether Luther actually was of the opinion that councils could err, and he was promptly answered by Luther:

Of course; because they have often erred. For, since the council of
Constance decided in many points against the clear text of Holy
Scripture, Holy Scripture forces me to say that councils have erred.

Eck declared that it could not be proved that general councils had erred. Luther said he could prove they had. The disputation that they said they would avoid was beginning. The emperor, seeing this, arose, and all the assembly with him. Eck cried out in a loud, clear voice: "The diet will meet again to-morrow to hear the emperor's opinion." It was night; each man retired to his home in darkness. Two imperial officers escorted Luther. Some supposed that his fate was decided and that they were leading him to prison, whence he would never return till he was brought out to be burned at the stake. A great tumult arose. Some cried out, "Are they taking him to prison?" "No," replied Luther, "they are only accompanying me to my hotel." At these words the excitement subsided.

UNDER IMPERIAL BAN

Luther had produced a profound impression on the chiefs of the empire, and many lords and princes were won to his cause. On the next morning the emperor submitted to the estates of the empire the proposition to immediately dismiss Luther, and then on the expiration of his self-conduct, to proceed against him as a heretic. On May 26th, after a majority of the diet had departed from Worms, an imperial edict against Luther was passed, and published as the "unanimous act of the Electors of the States." In order to make it appear that the emperor's signature was affixed when all the members of the diet were assembled, it was dated May 8th. It decreed against Luther the imperial ban; after applying to him the usual severe expressions of the papal bulls, it said:

Under the pain of incurring the penalties due to the crime of high
treason, we forbid you to harbor the said Luther after the appointed
term shall be expired, to conceal him, to give him food or drink, or
to furnish him, by word or by deed, publicly or secretly, with any
kind of succor whatever. We enjoin you, moreover, to seize him, or
cause him to be seized, wherever you may find him, to bring him before
us without any delay, or to keep him safe in custody, until you have
learned from us in what manner you are to act toward him, and have
received the reward due to your labors in so holy a work.

Thus the diet of Worms added to the pope's excommunication the ban of the emperor. The bold stand of the poor monk, in the face of the combined civil and ecclesiastical powers of the age, is one of the sublimest scenes in history, and marks an epoch in the progress of freedom. The disaffections with the various abuses of Rome and the desire for free preaching of the Gospel were so extensive that the Reformation, both in its negative and positive features, spread in spite of the pope's bull and the emperor's ban, and gained a foothold before 1530 in the greater part of Northern Germany.

Among the principal causes of this rapid progress were the writings of the reformers, Luther's German Bible, and the evangelical hymns, which introduced the new ideas into public worship and the hearts of the people.

On leaving Worms, after having gone some distance, Luther dismissed the imperial herald and proceeded leisurely, attended by only two friends. Toward night on May 4th, as he was in a lonely part of the wood, a band of armed horsemen suddenly appeared and surrounded the carriage. His friends supposed themselves attacked by bandits; one of them fled for his life, the other, Amisdorf, went on to Wittenberg with the news that Luther was violently dragged away and his fate was unknown. As the weeks passed and nothing was heard of him, the people were filled with anxiety. Even his enemies rejoiced with trembling when they heard that he had disappeared, for things were in such a state that "Luther dead might well be more troublesome to them than Luther living."