It would be to misapprehend the whole character of the writing to assert, as has recently been done by an historian of Luther, that the author was merely joking, and that what he says of the Monk-Calf was simply a jest at the expense of the Pope and the monks. As a matter of fact, every line of the work protests against such a misrepresentation of the author and his prophetic mysticism, and no one can read the pamphlet without being struck by the entire seriousness which it breathes.
The tragic earnestness of the whole is evident in the very first pages, where Luther allows a friend to give his own interpretation of a similar abortion (the Pope-Ass) born in Italy. Here the writer is no other than the learned Humanist Melanchthon, who, like Luther, with the help of a woodcut, describes and explains the portent. Pope-Ass and Monk-Calf made the round of Germany together, in successive editions. Melanchthon, scholar though he was, is not one whit less earnest in the significance he attaches to the “Pope-Ass found dead in 1496 in the Tiber at Rome.”
After this double work, so little to the credit of German literature, had frequently been reprinted, Luther, in 1535, added two additional pages to Melanchthon’s text with a corroboration entitled: “Dr. Martin Luther’s Amen to the interpretation of the Pope-Ass.” He here accepts entirely Melanchthon’s exposition, which was more than the latter was willing to do for Luther’s interpretation of the Monk-Calf. Melanchthon’s opinion, for which perhaps more might be said, was that the misshapen calf stood for the corruption of the Lutheran teaching by sensuality and perverse doctrine, iconoclast violence and revolutionary peasant movements.
In his “Amen” to Melanchthon’s Pope-Ass, Luther writes: “The Sublime, Divine Wisdom Itself” “created this hideous, shocking and horrible image.” “Well may the whole world be affrighted and tremble.” “People are terrified if a spirit or devil appears, or makes a clatter in a corner, though this is but mere child’s play compared with such an abomination, wherein God manifests Himself openly and shows Himself so cruel. Great indeed is the wrath which must be impending over the Papacy.”
In his Church-postils Luther spoke of the “Pope-Ass” with an earnestness calculated to make a profound impression upon the susceptible. He referred to the “dreadful beast which the Tiber had cast up at Rome some years before, with an ass’s head, a body like a woman’s, an elephant’s foot for a right hand, with fish scales on its legs, and a dragon’s head at its rear, etc. All this signified the Papacy and the great wrath and chastisement of God. Signs in such number portend something greater than our reason can conceive.”
As Luther makes such frequent use of the Pope-Ass, which he was instrumental in immortalising, for instance, in the frightful abuse of the Pope contained in “Das Bapstum zu Rom vom Teuffel gestifft,” and also circulated a woodcut of it in his book of caricatures of the Papacy, adding some derisive verses, which woodcut was afterwards reproduced from this or the earlier publication by other opponents of the Papacy, both in Germany and abroad, some particulars concerning the previous history of the Pope-Ass may here not be out of place.
The dead beast was said to have been left stranded on the banks of the Tiber in January, 1496, under the pontificate of Pope Alexander VI., when Italy was in a state of great distress. The find made a profound impression, as was only to be expected in those days of excitement and superstition; it was greatly exaggerated, and, at an early date, interpreted in various ways. The oldest description is to be met with in the Venetian Annals of Malipiero, where the account is that given by the ambassador of the Republic at Rome. The monster was also portrayed in stone in the Cathedral of Como, as an omen, so it would seem, of the misfortunes of the day, and of those yet to be expected. At Rome itself political opponents of Alexander VI. made use of it in their campaign against a Pope they hated, by circulating a lampoon — the oldest extant — containing a caricature of the event. A facsimile of this cut has come down to us in the shape of a copper plate made in 1498 by Wenzel of Olmütz. In all likelihood a copy of this very plate was sent to Luther at the beginning of 1523 by the Bohemian Brethren.
Melanchthon and Luther diverged in their use of this picture from the older and more harmless interpretation, i.e. that which saw in it a reference to earthly trials, or a judgment on the politics of the Pope. They, on the contrary, regarded it as a denunciation by heaven of the Papacy itself and of the Roman Church with all its “abominations.” Quite possibly the transition had been quietly effected by the Bohemian Brethren. Luther, however, says Lange, “was the first to make it public property.” “The Pope-Ass is for this reason the most interesting example of the whole teratological literature, because in it we can see the transition visibly effected.” The same author detects in the joint work of the two Wittenbergers “a polemical tone hitherto unheard of”; of Melanchthon’s Pope-Ass, he says: “It is probably the most unworthy work we have of Melanchthon’s. He himself naturally believed implicitly in what he wrote.... That Melanchthon acquitted himself of his task with particular skill cannot be affirmed.”
Just as the Monk-Calf had been applied to Luther himself previous to his own polemical interpretation of it, so, after the appearance of his and Melanchthon’s joint publication, both the Calf and the Ass were repeatedly taken by the Catholic controversialists to represent Luther and his innovations. The sixteenth century, as already hinted, loved to dwell upon and expound such freaks of nature. Authors of repute had done so before Luther, at least to the extent of making such the subject of indifferent compositions, as the poet J. Franciscus Vitalis of Palermo had done (“De monstro nato”) in the case of a monstrosity said to have been born at Ravenna in 1511 or 1512; the Humanist Jacob Locher, at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, dealt with a similar case in his “Carmen heroicum.” Conrad Lycosthenes published at Basle, in 1557, a compendium of the prodigies of nature (“Prodigiorum ac ostentorum chronicon”), in which he instances a large number of such freaks famous even before Luther’s day. Of the earlier Humanists Sebastian Brant composed some Elegies on the Marvels of Nature. The Wittenberg work on the Calf and Ass must be put in its proper setting, and judged according to the standard of its age; although, owing to its religious bias, it far exceeds in extravagance anything that had appeared so far, it nevertheless was an outgrowth of its time.
3. Proofs of the Divine Mission. Miracles and Prophecies
How was Luther to give actual proof of the reality of his call and of his mission to introduce such far-reaching ecclesiastical innovations?
Luther himself, indirectly, invited his hearers to ask this question concerning his calling. “Whoever teaches anything new or strange” must be “called to the office of preacher” he frequently declares of those new doctrines which differed from his own; no one who has not a legitimate mission will be able to withstand the devil, but on the contrary will be cast down to hell. Even in the case of the ordinary and regular office, Luther demands a legitimate mission; for the office of extraordinary messenger of God, he is still more severe. For here it is a question of the extraordinary preaching of truths previously unknown or universally forgotten or questioned, and of the reintroduction of doctrine. Here he rightly requires that whoever wishes to introduce anything new or to teach something different from the common, must be able to appeal to miracles in support of his vocation. If he is unable to do this, let him pack up and depart. Elsewhere, as he correctly puts it: “Where God wills to alter the ordinary ways, He ever performs miracles.” (Cp. vol. i., f.)
His teaching is, “There are two sorts of vocations to the office of preacher”; one takes place without any human means by God alone [the extraordinary call], the other [the ordinary] is effected by man as well as by God. The first is not to be credited unless attested by miracles such as were performed by Christ and His Apostles. Hence, if they come and say God has called them, that the Holy Ghost urges them, and they are forced to preach, let us ask them boldly: “What signs do you perform that we may believe you?” (Mark xvi. 20). Logically enough Luther also demanded mi
racles of Carlstadt, Münzer and the Anabaptists.
Which of the two kinds of vocation must we see in Luther’s case? Was his the ordinary one, which keeps to the well-trodden path, or the extraordinary one, which “strikes out a new way”? Simple as the question appears, it is nevertheless difficult to give a straight answer in Luther’s own words.
As has been proved by Döllinger in his work on the Reformation, and as was well seen even by earlier polemical writers, Luther’s statements concerning his own mission were not remarkable for consistency. No less than fourteen variations have been counted, though, naturally, they do not involve as many changes of opinion. We shall be nearest to the truth if we assume his mission to have been an extraordinary and unusual one. As an ordinary one it certainly could not be regarded, seeing the novelty of his teaching, and that he himself, as “Evangelist by God’s Grace” (see vol. iv., xxvi., 4), professed to be introducing a doctrine long misunderstood and forgotten. Besides, an ordinary call could only have emanated from the actually existing ecclesiastical authorities, with whom Luther had altogether broken. In this connection Luther himself, on one occasion, comes surprisingly near the Catholic view concerning the right of call invested in the bishops as the successors of the Apostles, and declares that “not for a hundred thousand worlds would he interfere with the office of a bishop without a special command.”
The assumption of an extraordinary call offers, however, an insuperable difficulty which cannot fail to present itself after what has been said. No extraordinary attestation on the part of heaven is forthcoming, nor any miracle which might have confirmed Luther’s doctrine; God’s witness on behalf of His messenger by signs or prophecies, such as those of Christ, of the Apostles and of many of the Saints, was lacking in Luther’s case, and so was that sanctity of life to be expected of a divinely commissioned teacher whose mission it is to bring men to the truth.
No one now believes in the existence of any actual and authentic miracle performed by Luther, or in any real prophecy, whether about or by him. With the tales of miracles which once found favour among credulous Pietists, history has no concern. Though here and there some credence still attaches to the alleged prediction of Hus, which Luther himself appealed to, viz. that after the goose (Hus=goose) would come a swan, yet historical criticism has already dealt quite sufficiently with it. We should run the risk of exposing Luther to ridicule were we to enumerate and reduce to their real value the alleged miracles by which, for instance, he was convinced his life was preserved in the poisoned pulpits of the Papists, or the various “monstra” and “portenta” which accompanied his preaching. Of such prodigies the Pope-Ass and the Monk-Calf are fair samples (above, ff.).
In reply to the attempts made, more particularly in the days of Protestant orthodoxy in the sixteenth century, to compare the rapid spread of Protestantism with the miracle of the rapid propagation of Christianity in early days, it has rightly been pointed out, that the comparison is a lame one; the Church of Christ spread because her moral power enabled her to impose on a proud world mysteries which transcend all human reason; on a world sunk in every lust and vice a moral law demanding a continual struggle against all the passions and desires of the heart; her conquest of the world was achieved without secular aid or support, in fact, in the very teeth of the great ones of the earth who for ages persecuted her; yet during this struggle she laid her foundations in the unity of the one faith and one hierarchy; her spread, then, was truly miraculous.
Luther, on the other hand, so his opponents urged, by his opposition to ecclesiastical authority and his principle of the free interpretation of Scripture, was casting humility to the winds and setting up the individual as the highest authority in matters of religion; thanks to his “evangelical freedom” he felt justified in deriding as holiness-by-works much that in Christianity was a burden or troublesome; on the other hand, by his doctrine of imputation, he cast the mantle of Christ’s righteousness over all the doings and omissions of believers; from the very birth of his movement he had sought his principal support in the favour of the Princes, whom, in due course, he invested with supreme authority in the Church; the spread of Lutheranism was not the spread of a united Church, but, on the contrary, such was the diversity of opinions that Jacob Andreæ, a Protestant preacher, could say, in 1576, in a public address, that it would be difficult to find a pastor who held the same faith as his sexton. From all this the Church’s sixteenth-century apologists concluded that the spread of Luther’s teaching was not at all miraculous.
Concerning the miracle spoken of above, and miracles in general as proofs of the truth, Luther expresses himself in the third sermon on the Ascension, embodied in his Church-postils. The occasion was furnished by the words of Our Lord: “These signs shall follow those who believe” (Mark xvi. 17), and by the pertinent question addressed to him by the fanatics and other opponents: Where are your miracles?
With remarkable assurance he will have it, that to put such a question to him was quite “idle”; miracles enough had taken place when Christianity was first preached to make good the words spoken by Our Lord; at the present day the Gospel had no further need of them; such outward signs had been suitable “for the heathen,” whereas, now, the Gospel had been “proclaimed everywhere.” — He does not see that though the Gospel had certainly been proclaimed everywhere this was was not his own particular Gospel or Evangel, and that he is therefore begging the question. He continues quite undismayed: Miracles may nevertheless take place, and do, as a matter of fact, occur under the Evangel, for instance, the driving out of devils and the healing of sicknesses. “The best and greatest miracle” is, however, the spread and preservation of my doctrine in spite of the assaults of devils, tyrants and fanatics, in spite of flesh and blood, of the “Pope, the Turk and his myrmidons.” Is it no miracle, that “so many die cheerfully in Christ” in this faith? Compared with this miracle, declares the orator, those miracles which appeal to the senses are mere child’s play; this is a “miracle beyond all miracles”; well might people be astonished at the survival of his doctrine “when a hundred thousand devils were striving against it.” It was only to be expected that this miracle should be blasphemed by an unbelieving world, but “were we to perform the most palpable miracles, they would still despise them.” This is why God does not work them through us, just as Christ Himself, although able to perform miracles with the greatest ease, once refused to give the Jews “any other sign than that of the Prophet Jonas,” i.e. the resurrection. Luther concludes with an explanation of Christ’s refusal and of the miracle of Jonas.
Hence he is willing to allow the absence of “palpable miracles” in support of his Evangel, in default of which, however, he instances the miracle of his great success. And yet, according to his own showing, such an attestation by palpable miracles would have been eminently desirable. Germany, he says, from the early days of her conversion down to his own time, had never been in possession of Christianity, because the real Gospel, i.e. the doctrine of Justification, had remained unknown. Only now for the first time had the Gospel been revealed in all its purity, thanks to his study of Scripture. At the Council of Nicæa he declares, “there was not one who had even tasted of the Divine Spirit”; even the Council of the Apostles at Jerusalem was not above suspicion, seeing that it had seen fit to discuss works and traditions rather than faith.
Thus he requires that his unheard-of claims, albeit not attested by any display of miracles, should be accepted simply on his own assurance that his teaching was based on Holy Scripture. “There is no need for us to work wonders, for our teaching is already confirmed [by Holy Scripture] and is no new thing.”
Owing to the lack of any Divine attestation, Luther often preferred to describe his mission as an ordinary one. In this case he derives his vocation to teach from his degree of Doctor of Theology and from the authority given him by the authorities to preach. “I, Dr. Martin,” he says, for instance, speaking of his doctorate, “was called and compelled thereto; for I
was forced to become a Doctor [of Holy Scripture] against my will and simply out of obedience.” Elsewhere, however, he declares that the doctorate was by no means sufficient to enable one to bid defiance to the devil, or to equip a man in conscience for the task of preaching. He was still further confirmed in this belief when he realised that he owed his doctorate to that very Church which he represented as the Kingdom of Antichrist and a mere Babylon. He himself stigmatised his degree as the “mark of the Beast,” and rejoiced that the excommunication had cancelled this papistical title.
Neither could the want of a call be supplied by the authorisation of the Wittenberg Council, upon which at times Luther was wont to lay stress. He himself hesitated to allow that magistrates or Princes could give a call, particularly where the teaching of any of those thus appointed by the magistrates ran counter to his own. Even though their teaching agreed entirely with the views of the secular authorities, their mission was in his eyes quite invalid. He even had frequent cause to complain, that the Evangel was greatly hampered by the interference of the secular authorities and by their sending out as preachers those who had no real call, and were utterly unfitted for the office.
After what has gone before, we can readily understand how Luther came to pass over in silence the question of his mission and to appeal directly to his preaching of the truth as the sign of his vocation; he does not seem to have perceived that the main point was to establish a criterion for the recognition of the truth, short of which anyone would be at liberty to set up his pet error as the “truth.” “The first,” though not the only condition, was, he declared, “that the preacher should have an office, be convinced that he was called and sent, and that what he did was done for the sake of his office”; seeing, however, that even the Papists fulfilled these conditions, Luther usually required in addition that the preachers “be certain they have God’s Word on their side.”
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 680
