Incidentally he seeks to lead the misguided people, who had no opinions of their own, to believe that the Catholic spokesmen who had rejected his doctrine of the slavery of the will, did not even know what the question at issue really was. They do not know “what free-will is; the Universities still disagree on the subject.... These great, rude, blockheads condemn what they themselves admit they do not understand” — as though, forsooth, a difference regarding the exact definition and meaning involved a doubt as to the existence of freedom.
In their Edict they condemn my doctrine of justification, he cries, though they themselves clearly recognise the contrary and, in the secret of their hearts, are on my side, knowing well that their boasts are but idle lies. In confident tones he asserts that he has been defamed by sophistical charges of supporting doctrines which were altogether strange to him and which he had never defended; — in point of fact, these charges were not levelled at him at all, but against the Anabaptists and others; he makes out the Edict to contain contradictions, — of which in reality not the slightest trace is to be found. The Catholic declaration that to receive communion under both kinds is in itself allowable, he distorts into a general permission. Because the giving of the chalice was no longer part of the discipline of the Church, he calls the Popes spiritual robbers of the faithful and overt enemies of their salvation. Add to this his misinterpretation of Bible passages, the pious tone artfully assumed here and there, his deliberate passing over in silence of certain questionable points, and his pretence of awaiting the decision of a general Council.
What has been quoted is sufficient to show the stratagems to which the author has recourse at the expense of truth, and the doubtful methods employed by him in his popular controversial writings. Yet this work is by a long way not the most violent and malicious specimen of Luther’s literary output.
We may wonder whether Luther, in the stress of his controversial struggle, was fully aware of the glaring dishonesty of his utterances. Certain it is that he was frequently carried away by anger and excitement. Some daring misrepresentations and inventions he reiterated so often that he may at last have come to believe them. Without some inward obsession playing upon his imagination such a phenomenon is almost inexplicable.
Although the contents of Luther’s “Warnunge an die Deudschen” and “Auff das vermeint keiserlich Edict” incited people to resist the Emperor, and thus far agreed with the demands of the revolutionary party, as made, for instance, by the Landgrave of Hesse, yet Luther was most careful to guard himself against any accusation of having preached revolt against the authority of the Empire. Previous to the publication of the “Warnunge” he had assured the Landgrave that the greatest caution would be exercised in the work, “so that it may not be stigmatised as seditious.” Later, too, he declared, quite at variance with the actual facts of the case, and notwithstanding the well-founded complaints of Duke George of Saxony and his own Elector’s disapproval of the inflammatory character of his work: “In it I have not treated of anything in a seditious manner and no one will be able to convict me of stirring up revolt thereby.” He informs the Elector, that the two pamphlets were really not “sufficiently severe” considering the tone of his literary opponents; he was “only sorry that he had not used stronger and more violent language,” whereas — the allegation is untrue, but was calculated to produce a powerful effect on the Elector— “unheard-of threats are contained in this horrible statute and sentence levelled against Your Electoral Highness and the members of your house, so that the sword and wrath of the whole Empire menaces Your Electoral Highness in life and limb, drenching Germany with innocent blood, making widows and orphans, and bringing destruction and devastation on the Empire.” He concludes: “May Our Merciful Father in Heaven comfort and strengthen Your Electoral Highness in His Word.”
The Catholic Duke George of Saxony, a clear-headed man and good politician, owing to the attack made upon him by Luther, descended into the literary arena at the time when the struggle was at its height, after the Edict of Augsburg, writing an anonymous “Gegenwarnung” against Luther’s “Warnunge” and against his “Vermeint Edict.” This was published by Arnoldi, who added an epilogue of his own. The work is written in powerful language and abounds with good arguments. The Duke commences with the plain statement, that the innovator is after nothing else than making “us Germans disloyal to the Emperor and opposed to all authority.” He points out with how great cunning and malice Luther had gone to work, telling countless lies, making a loud clamour and using endless artifices; this should be taken to heart by those who called him a living Saint and vaunted the spirit of God which spoke through him.
Having learnt the name of the author, Luther replied immediately in a booklet steeped in hate, entitled, “Widder den Meuchler zu Dresen gedrückt.” He fell upon the Duke with such insults, misrepresentations and calumnies that many Catholics, to whom Luther’s conduct appeared ever stranger, shared the opinion expressed in George’s reply, viz. that “Luther is certainly possessed by the devil, with the whole legion which Christ drove out of the man who was possessed”; if Paul was right in saying that the spirit was known by its fruits (Gal. v. 22), then Luther’s spirit was “the spirit of lies, which spoke fond inventions and untruths through him.”
Luther, in his pamphlet “Widder den Meuchler, etc.” abuses the author of the “Gegenwarnung” as an “arch-villain,” a “horrid, impudent miscreant,” a fellow who tried to deck out and conceal the “traitorous, murderous tyranny” of the Papists under the mantle of the charges of “revolt and disobedience” directed against him, Luther. He stigmatises all his opponents, more particularly the Catholic rulers, as “bloodthirsty tyrants and priests,” as “bloodhounds” who have gone raving mad from malice, as “murderers who have shed so much innocent blood and are still desirous of shedding more.” They were “worthy offshoots, who believe our teaching to be true and nevertheless condemn it, and are therefore anxious for war and slaughter.” He also declares he had never seen a “bigger and more stupid fool” than the author. “Now then, squire assassin! Speak up and let us hear your opinion. Shame upon your book, shame upon your brazen effrontery and malicious heart; how is it that you do not blush to lay bare your murderous and shameful lies before all the world, to deceive such pious folk and to praise and vaunt such obstinate bloodhounds? But you are a Papist, hence the infamies of the Papacy cling to you so that you have gone mad and spit out such shameful words.”
To describe the Catholic party at the Diet of Augsburg he makes use of the word “bloodhounds” six times within a few lines.
The haste with which he dashed off the pamphlet was only equalled by his terrible excitement. He says at the end: “I have been forced to hurry for the Leipzig Fair [the book Fair], but soon I shall lick his gentle booklet into better shape for him.... I don’t care if he complains that it contains nothing but evil words and devils, for that redounds to my honour and glory; I wish it to be said of me in the future, that I was full of evil words, vituperation and curses on the Papists. I have humbled myself frequently for more than ten years and given them nothing but good words.”
What he really should have done would have been to defend himself against the charge brought forward by George of stirring up revolt against the authority of the Empire. He not only failed to vindicate himself, but assumed a still more threatening and defiant attitude.
After contemplating these far from pleasing pictures we may be allowed to conclude by referring to one of Luther’s more favourable traits. While, on the one hand, his soul was filled with deep anger against the Papists, on the other he was also zealous in inveighing against those who were threatening the foundations of those articles of the Christian faith which he still held in common with Catholics, and which he was ever ready to defend with the fullest conviction.
He foresaw that the freethinking spirit, which was involved in his own religious movement, would not spare the dogma of the Trinity. He was painfully alive to the fact that
the arbitrariness of the Anabaptists presaged the ruin of the most fundamental of Christian tenets.
In a sermon preached in 1526, speaking of the doctrine of the Trinity, he had said: “The devil will not rest until he has managed to do the same with this dogma as with the Sacrament; because we have snatched it out of the jaws of the Pope and re-established its right use, turbulent spirits now want to tread it under foot. The same will happen in the matter of this article, so that we shall relapse into Judaism.”
A dangerous example of anti-Trinitarian tendencies had shown itself in Luther’s immediate circle in the person of Johann Campanus, a native of the diocese of Liege, who had been a student at Wittenberg since 1528. This man boasted that he was the first since the days of the Apostles to rediscover the Gospel concerning the true unity or dualism of God.
The doctrines of Campanus, which the latter submitted to the Elector of Saxony, made Luther very angry; he described them as “wretched doctrinal monstrosities” (“misera monstra dogmatum”). Their author he termed an enemy of the Son of God, a blasphemer, a child of Satan. Against Campanus Bugenhagen published certain writings of St. Athanasius, with Luther’s approval, and the latter also wrote a powerful preface to the edition. He wished, as he says, to strike a blow at those Italian or German-Italian Humanists, who denied the Trinity or were alienated from Christianity. In his exaggeration and bitterness he counted Erasmus, the author of “Hyperaspistes,” among the “Viperaspides” pointing him out as one of the anti-Trinitarians who must be fought against. In the preface he vents his indignation in his usual language: The doctrine of the Trinity, like the other fundamental dogmas, was now being attacked by the “slaves of Satan”; the example of St. Athanasius, the champion of faith in the Trinity, demonstrated, how, in order to defend it, we must be ready to stand against “all the fury let loose in hell, on earth and in the whole realm”; in our “altogether distracted age” it is necessary to “set up against these devils, these Epicureans, sceptics, Italian and German monsters, Him [God the Father], Who had said to Jesus, our Servant, ‘Thou art My Son,’ and again, ‘Sit Thou on My right hand.’ Thus we will wait and see if these giants come off victorious in their titanic struggle against God.”
He recalls how, as a young monk, he had read these very writings of St. Athanasius “with great zeal in the faith,” and informs us that he had received a copy to read from his pedagogue or Novice-master, written out in his own writing. He trusts that Bugenhagen’s work will contribute to the glory of our Lord Jesus, Who, “through His boundless love for us has chosen to become the servant of us poor sinners,” and that “the Lord will soon destroy all those giants, which is what we await and pray for day by day.”
VOL. III. THE REFORMER (I)
CHAPTER XV
ORGANISATION AND PUBLIC POSITION OF THE NEW CHURCH
1. Luther’s Religious Situation. Was his Reaction a Break with Radicalism?
From the date of the presentation of the “Confession” at the Diet of Augsburg, Lutheranism began to take its place as a new form of religious belief.
Before this it had ostensibly been merely a question of reforming the universal Church, though, as a matter of fact, the proposed reform involved the entire reconstruction of the Church. Now, however, Lutherans admitted — at least indirectly, by putting forward this new profession of faith — that it was their intention to constitute themselves into a distinctive body, in order to impart a permanent character to the recent innovations in belief and practice. The Protestants were prepared to see in Germany two forms of faith existing side by side, unless indeed the Catholic Church should finally consent to accept the “evangelical” Profession of Faith.
It is true, that, in thus establishing a formula of faith which should be binding on their followers, the Lutherans were taking up a position in contradiction with the principle of private judgment in matters of faith, which, in the beginning, they had loudly advocated. This was, however, neither an isolated phenomenon, nor, considering the circumstances, at all difficult to understand. The principles which Luther had championed in the first part of his career, principles of which the trend was towards the complete emancipation of the individual from outward creeds and laws, he had over and again since his first encounters with the fanatics and Anabaptists honoured in the breach, and, if he had not altogether discarded them, he had at least come to explain them very differently.
Hence a certain reaction had taken place in the mind of the originator of the schism upon which in some sense the Confession of Augsburg set a seal.
The extent of this reaction has been very variously estimated. In modern times the contrast between the earlier and later Luther has been so strongly emphasised that we even hear it said that, in the first period of his career, what he stood for was a mere “religion of humanity,” that of a resolute “radical,” whereas in the second he returned to something more positive. Some have even ventured to speak of the earlier stage of Luther’s career, until, say, 1522, as “Lutheran,” and of the later as “Protestant.”
In order to appreciate the matter historically it will be necessary for us to take a survey of the circumstances as a whole which led to the change in Luther’s attitude, and then to determine the effect of these factors by a comparison between his earlier and later life.
Amongst the circumstances which influenced Luther one was his tardy recognition of the fact that the course he had first started on, with the noisy proclamation of freedom of thought and action in the sphere of religion, could lead to no other goal than that of universal anarchy and the destruction of both religion and morality. The Anabaptist rising served to point out to him the results of his inflammatory discourses in favour of freedom. He was determined that his work should not degenerate into social revolution, for one reason because he was anxious to retain the good-will of the mighty, above all of the Elector of Saxony. When the Peasant rising, thanks to the ideas he had himself put forth, began to grow formidable he found himself compelled to make a more determined stand against all forms of radicalism which threatened disintegration. This he did indeed more particularly in the political domain, though his changed attitude here naturally reacted also on his conception of matters religious.
He treated Andreas Carlstadt and Thomas Münzer as foes, not merely because they were turbulent and dangerous demagogues, but also because they were his rivals in the leadership of the movement. The “Spirit,” which he had formerly represented as the possession of all who opposed to the old Church their evangelical interpretation of Scripture, he was now obliged to reserve more and more to himself, in order to put a stop to the destructive effect of the multiplicity of opinions. Instead of the “inward word” he now insisted more and more on the “outward word,” viz. on the Bible preaching, as authorised by the authorities, i.e. according to his own interpretation. The mysticism, which had formerly lent a false, idealistic glamour to his advocacy of freedom, gradually evaporated as years went by. Having once secured a large following it was no longer necessary for him to excite the masses by playing to their love of innovation. After the first great burst of applause was over he became, in the second period of his life, rather more sober, the urgent task of establishing order in his party, particularly in the Saxon parishes which adhered to his cause, calling for prudent and energetic action on his side.
In this respect the Visitation in 1527 played a great part in modifying those ideas of his which tended to mere arbitrariness and revolution.
Now that the doctrines of the preachers had been made to conform more and more to the Wittenberg standard; now that the appointment of pastors had been taken out of the hands of the Congregations and left to the ruler of the land, it was only natural that when the new national Church called for a uniform faith, a binding confession of faith, such as that of Augsburg, should be proclaimed, however much such a step, such a “constriction and oppression” of freedom, might conflict with the right of private judgment displayed at the outset on the banner of the movement.
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Such were, broadly stated, the causes which led to the remarkable change in Luther’s attitude.
On the other hand, those who opine that his ardour had been moderated by his stay at the Wartburg seem to be completely in the wrong. The solitude and quiet of the Wartburg neither taught Luther moderation, nor were responsible for the subsequent reaction. Quite otherwise; at the Wartburg he firmly believed that all that he had paved the way for and executed was mystically confirmed from above, and when, after receiving his “spiritual baptism” within those gloomy walls, he wrote, as one inspired, to the Elector concerning his mission, there was as yet in his language absolutely nothing to show the likelihood of his withdrawing any of the things he had formerly said. Upon his return to Wittenberg he at once took a vigorous part in the putting down of the revolt of the fanatics, not, however, because he disapproved of the changes in themselves — this he expressly disclaims — but because he considered it imprudent and compromising to proceed in so turbulent a manner.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 663
