He came at first to an understanding with Luther by offering an explanation which the latter deemed satisfactory, but he then proceeded to revert to his peculiar tenets in a new publication. Luther now launched a sharp reply against these antinomian theses, as well as against others, which went much further, and whose origin is unknown. He found wanting in Agricola that earnest moral appreciation of the law, and of the moral demands made of us by God, whereby the heart of the sinner, as he himself had experienced, must first be bruised and broken, and thus opened to receive the word of grace, before that word can truly renew, revive, and sanctify it. But together with Agricola's tenets he then placed the others, betraying an equally frivolous estimate of the real nature of those demands and of the duties they entailed, as evidence of one tendency and one character, since Agricola, indeed, taught like them, that the good willed by God in His Commandments was fulfilled in Christians by the simple fact of their belief in Christ, and as the fruit of His word of grace. Thus it came about that this tendency which Luther found represented in Agricola, stood out before him in all its compass and with its extremest and most alarming consequences, and called forth the boldest exercise of his zeal. It grieved him sorely, nevertheless, to have to enter into this dispute with his old friend. 'God knows,' he said, 'what trials this business has prepared for me; I shall have died of sheer anxiety before I have brought my theses against him (Agricola) to the light.'

At the instance, however, of the Elector, who valued Agricola, another reconciliation was brought about. Agricola humbled himself; he even authorised his great opponent to draw up a retractation in his name, and Luther did this in a manner very damaging to Agricola, in a letter to his former colleague and opponent at Eisleben, Caspar Guttel. Agricola thereupon received a place in the newly-formed consistory. But even now he could not refrain from fresh utterances which betrayed his old opinions. Luther's confidence in him was thus destroyed for ever: he spoke with indignation, pain, and scorn of 'Grikel (Agricola), the false man.' The latter at length complained to the Elector against Luther for having unjustly aspersed him. The Elector testified to him his displeasure; Luther gave a sharp answer to the charge, and his prince made further inquiries into the matter of complaint. Agricola finally snatched at a means of escape offered by his summons to Berlin, whither he had been called as a preacher of distinction by the Elector Joachim II., who was a convert to the Reformation. In August 1540 he left Wittenberg. He sent thither from Berlin another and fully satisfactory retractation in order to retain his official appointment. But Luther's friendship with him was broken for ever.

In another quarter also Melancthon had been charged with deviating in certain statements from the path of right doctrine.

We know already how his anxiety about the dangers caused by the separation from the great Catholic Church seemed to tempt him to indulge in questionable concessions, and how it was Luther himself, with a disposition so different to Melancthon's, who nevertheless held firmly to his trust in his friend and fellow-labourer, particularly during the Diet of Augsburg. And, indeed, subsequent events brought this tendency to concession more fully into notice.

Certain peculiarities now asserted themselves in Melancthon's independent opinions, with regard both to theology and practical life, which distinguished his mode of teaching from that of Luther. He who, again and again, in the Augsburg Confession and the Apology, as also in the system of evangelical theology which in his 'Loci Communes' he was the first to elaborate, had expounded with full and active conviction the fundamental evangelical truth of a justifying and saving Faith, was anxious also—more so, even, than many strict confessors of that doctrine—to have the whole field of moral improvement and the fruits of morality which were necessary to preserve that faith, estimated at their proper value. And further, with respect to God's will and the operation of His grace, whereby alone the sinner could obtain inward conversion and faith, he wished to make this depend entirely on man's own will and choice, so that the blame might not appear to lie with God if the call to salvation remained fruitless, and a temptation thereby be offered to many to indulge in carelessness or despondency. In addition to this, he differed unmistakably from Luther in his doctrine of the Sacrament. For, though it was he who at Augsburg in 1530 had flatly rejected the Zwinglians, still his historical researches impressed him with the belief, that, in reality, as indeed the Zwinglians maintained, not Augustine himself, among the ancients, had taught the Real Bodily Presence after the manner of Luther, or even of Roman Catholicism; and his own theological opinion induced him at least to satisfy himself with more or less obscure propositions about the communion of the Saviour Who died for us with the guests at His table, without any fixed or clear declarations about the substantiality of the Body. This appears, for instance, in his 'Loci Communes,' although in the formula of the Wittenberg Concord of 1536 he went farther, together with Luther.

On the first point above-mentioned, a priest named Cordatus, a strict adherent of Luther, had raised a protest against him in 1536. But the opponent whom Melancthon chiefly feared in this respect was the theologian Amsdorf, who was not only an old familiar friend of Luther, but the especial guardian, both then and still more after Luther's death, of Lutheran orthodoxy. But Luther himself was anxious to avoid, even in this matter, any rupture or discord with Melancthon. He took great pains to reconcile the difference, and knew also how to keep silence, though without deviating from his own strict standpoint, or being able to overlook the peculiarity of his friend's teaching, conspicuously apparent as it was in the new edition of his book.

We are reminded by this, moreover, how Luther, during his illness at Schmalkald in 1537, made no secret of his fear of a division breaking out at Wittenberg after his death.



CHAPTER V.

LUTHER AND THE PROGRESS AND INTERNAL TROUBLES OF PROTESTANTISM. 1538—1541.

In the great affairs of the Church, amid the threats of his enemies and in all his dealings with them, Luther continued from day to day to trust quietly in God, as the Guider of events, Who suffers none to forestall His designs, and puts to shame and rebuke the inventions of man. His hope of external peace had hitherto been fulfilled beyond all expectation. And it had been permitted him to see the Reformation gain strength and make further progress in the German Empire. Indeed, it seemed possible that a union might be effected with those Catholics who had been impressed with the evangelical doctrine of salvation. These were results accomplished by the inward power of God's Word, as hitherto preached to the people, under a Divine and marvellously favourable dispensation of outer relations and events—fruits as unexpected as they were gratifying to Luther. Great plans or projects of his own, however, were still far from his thoughts; nor even did the details of this historical development demand such activity on his part as he had shown in the earlier years of the movement. And yet there was no lack of discord, difficulty, and trouble within the pale of the new Church and amongst its members; prospects of further, and possibly much more serious dangers to be encountered; thoughts of sadness and disquietude to vex the soul of the Reformer, now aged, suffering, and weary. The goal of his hopes had ever been, and still remained, not indeed a victory to be gradually achieved for his cause, perhaps even in his own lifetime, by the course of ecclesiastical and political changes and events, but the end which the Lord Himself, according to His promises, would make of the whole wicked world, and the Hereafter whither he was ever waiting to be summoned.

Since the Schmalkaldic allies had rejected the Emperor with his invitation to a Council, the Romish zealots might well hope that Charles at length would prepare to use force against them. He was not yet able to bring his quarrel with King Francis to a final termination; but, nevertheless, he concluded a truce with him in 1538 for ten years, while at the same time his vice-chancellor Held contrived to effect a union of Roman Catholic princes in Germany in opposition to the Schmalkaldic League. This union was joined, in addition to Austria, Bavaria, and George of Saxony, by Duke Henry of Brunswick, the bitter enemy of the Landgrave Philip. Already in the spring of that year people at Wittenberg talked of operations on a large scale ostensibly directed against the Turks, but in reality against the Protestants. Or at least it was feared that the imperial army, in the event of its defeating the Turks, might, as Luther expressed it, turn their spears against the Evangelical party. In this respect Luther had no fears; he did not believe in a victory over the Turks, and, even in that case, his opinion was that the imperial troops would no more submit to be made the instruments of such a policy than they had done some years before, after their victory at Vienna. Most earnestly he exhorted the Elector, for his part at least, to do his duty again in the war against the Turks, for the sake of his Fatherland and the poor oppressed people. On the other hand, the right of the Protestant States to resist the Emperor, if it came to a war of religion, was one which he now asserted without scruple or hesitation. The Emperor, he said, in such a war would not be Emperor at all, but merely a soldier of the Pope. He appealed to the fact that once among the people of Israel pious and godly men had risen up against their sovereign; and the German princes had additional rights over their Emperor, by virtue of their constitution. Finally, he reasoned from the law of nature itself, that a father was bound to protect his wife and children from open murder; and he likened the Emperor, who usurped a power notoriously illegal, to a murderer. For the rest, he declared, in a publication exhorting the Evangelical clergy to pray for peace, that as to whether the Papists chose to carry out their designs or not he was perfectly indifferent, in case God did not will to work a miracle. His only fear was lest a war might arise, if they did so, which would never end, and would be the total ruin of Germany.

But the Emperor was less zealous and more cautious than his vice-chancellor. He sent another representative to Germany, with instructions to prevent an outbreak of hostilities. This envoy, in the course of some negotiations conducted at Frankfort in April 1539, agreed to an understanding by which the ecclesiastical law-suits hitherto instituted in the Imperial Chamber against the Protestants were suspended, and a number of chosen theologians of piety and laymen were to 'arrange a praiseworthy union of Christians' at an assembly of the German Estates.

On April 17, in the midst of these transactions, Duke George of Saxony died after a short illness. His country passed to his brother Henry, who in his own smaller territory of Freiburg had for some years, much to the grief of George, established the Evangelical form of worship, and given shelter to the heretics banished by his brother. The latter had left no male issue to succeed him. He had lost two sons in boyhood; and his son John, who held the same opinions as himself, had died two years ago, when quite a young man, without leaving any children. His last remaining son Frederick was of weak intellect, but had nevertheless been married after his brother's death, and died a few weeks later. He was soon followed by his unhappy father and sovereign. Luther said of him that he had gone to everlasting fire, though he would have wished him life and conversion. To us his end appears the more tragic because we cannot but acknowledge the honest zeal with which, from his own point of view, he endeavoured to serve God, and would willingly even have effected a reform in the Church; whilst, in spite of all his severity against heretics, he never suffered himself to be hurried into deeds of coarse violence and cruelty. There are extant prayers and religious discourses, composed and written down by himself. He read the Bible, and expressed a wish, when Luther's translation appeared, that 'the monk would put the whole Bible into German, and then go about his business.'

Thus the old and constantly revived quarrel between Luther and the Duke came at length to an end. The Reformation was immediately introduced throughout the duchy by the appointment of Evangelical clergy, by changes in public worship, and by a visitation of churches after the example of the one in Electoral Saxony. When Henry was solemnly acknowledged sovereign at Leipzig, he invited Luther and Jonas to be present. On the afternoon of Whitsunday, May 24, 1539, Luther preached a sermon in the court chapel of that Castle of Pleissenburg, where he had once disputed before George with Eck, and on the following afternoon he preached in one of the churches of the town, not venturing to do so in the morning on account of his weak state of health. He now proclaimed aloud, in his sermon on the Gospel for Whitsunday, that the Church of Christ was not there, where men were madly crying 'Church! Church!' without the Word of God, nor was it with the Pope, the cardinals, and the bishops; but there, and there only, where Christ was loved and His Word was kept, and where accordingly He dwelt in the souls of men. He refrained from any special reference to the state of things hitherto existing at Leipzig and in the duchy, or to the change brought about by God. But we call to mind the words he had spoken in 1532, 'Who knows what God will do before ten years are over?' Very soon, indeed, the magnates of the Saxon court and the nobility, though accepting the reformed faith of their new sovereign, gave occasion to Luther for bitter complaints of their rapacity, their indifference to religion, and their improper and tyrannical usurpations on the territory of the Church.

In addition to the Saxon duchy, the Electorate of Brandenburg was also about to go over to Protestantism. The Elector Joachim I. adhered so strictly to the ancient Church, that his wife Elizabeth, who was evangelically inclined, had fled to Saxony, where she became an intimate friend of Luther's household. But on his death in 1535, his younger son John, together with his territory, the 'Neumark,' joined at once the Schmalkaldic allies. And now, after longer consideration, his elder brother also, Joachim II.—a man of quieter disposition and more attached to ancient ways—took the decisive step, after an agreement with his Estates and the territorial bishop, Jagow. On November 1, 1539, he received from the latter publicly the Sacrament in both kinds.

Under these circumstances the Emperor resolved to give effect to the essential part of the Frankfort agreement. He summoned a meeting at Spire 'for the purpose of so arranging matters that the wearisome dissension in religion might be reconciled in a Christian manner.' In consequence of a pestilence which appeared at Spire, the assembly was removed to Hagenau. Here it was actually held in June 1540.

Meanwhile, the most vigorous champion of Protestantism, the Landgrave Philip, took a step which was calculated to damage the position of the Evangelical Church and to embarrass its adherents more than anything which their enemies could possibly attempt. Philip, in his youth (1523) had taken to wife a daughter of Duke George of Saxony, but soon repented of his ill-considered resolve, on the ground that she was of an unamiable disposition and was afflicted with bodily infirmities, and accordingly proceeded to look elsewhere for a mistress, after the fashion only too common at that time with emperors and princes, but scarcely commented upon in their case. The earnest remonstrances made to him on religious grounds against this step had the effect of causing him certain prickings of conscience; he had not ventured on that account, as he now complained, to present himself at the Lord's table, with one single exception, since the Peasants' War. But his conscience was not strong enough to make him give up his evil ways. At last the Bible, which he read industriously, seemed to him to provide a means of outlet from his difficulty. He sheltered himself, as the Anabaptist fanatics had done before him, behind the Old Testament precedent of Abraham and other godly men, to whom it had been permitted to have more than one wife, and pleaded, moreover, that the New Testament contained no prohibition of polygamy. With all the energy and stubbornness of his nature, he fastened on these notions and clung to them, when, at the house of his sister, the Duchess Elizabeth, at Rochlitz, he chanced to meet and fall in love with a lady named Margaret von der Saal. She refused to be his except by marriage. Her mother even demanded of him that Luther, Butzer, and Melancthon, or at least two of them, together with an envoy of the Elector and the Duke of Saxony, should be present as witnesses at the marriage. Philip himself found the consent of these divines and of his most distinguished ally, John Frederick, indispensable. He succeeded first of all in gaining over the versatile Butzer, and sent him in December 1539, on this errand, to Wittenberg.

He appealed to the strait that he was in, no longer able with a good conscience to go to war or to punish crime, and also to the testimony of Scripture, adding, very truly, that the Emperor and the world were quite willing to permit both him and anyone else to live in open immorality. Thus, he said, they were forbidding what God allowed, and winking at what He prohibited. In other respects, indeed, a double marriage was not a thing unheard of even by the Christendom of those days. It was said, for instance, of the Christian Emperor of Rome, Valentinian II., to whose case Philip himself appealed, that he had been permitted to contract a marriage of that kind. To the Pope was ascribed the power to grant the necessary dispensation.

On December 10 Butzer brought back to the Landgrave from Wittenberg an opinion of Luther and Melancthon. They told him in decided terms that it was in accordance with creation itself, and recognised as such by Jesus, 'that a man was not to have more than one wife;' and they, the preachers of God's Word, were commanded to regulate marriage and all human things 'in accordance with their original and Divine institution, and to adhere thereto as closely as possible, while at the same time avoiding to their utmost all cause of pain or annoyance.' They urgently exhorted him not to regard incontinence, as did the world, in the light of a trifling offence, and represented to him plainly that if he refused to resist his evil inclinations, he would not mend matters by taking a second wife. But with all this exhortation and warning, they confessed themselves bound to admit that 'what was allowed in respect of marriage by the law of Moses was not actually forbidden in the gospel;' thereby maintaining, in point of fact, that an original ordinance in the Church must be adhered to as the rule, but nevertheless admitting the possibility of a dispensation under very strong and exceptional circumstances. They did not say that such a dispensation was applicable to the case of Philip; they only wished him earnestly to reconsider the matter with his own conscience. In the event, however, of his keeping to his resolve, they would not refuse him the benefit of a dispensation, and only required that the matter should be kept private, on account of the scandal and possible abuse it would occasion if generally known.

Luther himself abandoned afterwards the conclusions he drew from the Old Testament in this respect, and, as a consequence, rejected the admissibility of a double marriage for Christians. Friends of the evangelical and Lutheran belief can only lament the decision he pronounced in this matter. With that belief itself it has nothing whatever to do. Instead of drawing his conclusions from the moral aspect of marriage, as amply attested by the spirit of the New Testament, though not indeed exactly expressed, Luther on this occasion clung to the letter, and failed, of course, to find any written declaration on the point. At the same time he mistook, in common with all the theologians of his time, the difference, in point of matured morality and knowledge, between the New Covenant and the standpoint of the Old, which was that also of his best adherents.

The simple Christian common sense of the Elector John Frederick, and his practical view of the position, preserved him this time from the error into which the theologians had fallen. He lamented that they should have given an answer, and would have nothing to do with the business.

Philip, however, rejoiced at the decision, and obtained, moreover, his wife's consent to take a second one.

In the following March the Protestants held another conference at Schmalkald, with a view of coming to an agreement as to their conduct in the attempts at unity in the Church. The Elector summoned Melancthon thither, but excused Luther, at his own request. Philip then invited the former, under some pretext or other, to the neighbouring Castle of Rothenburg on the Fulda. Arrived there, he was obliged to be a witness with Butzer, on March 4, 1540, to the marriage of the Landgrave with Margaret. Philip thanked Luther some weeks after for the 'remedy' allowed him, without which he should have become 'quite desperate.' He had kept the name of his second wife a secret from the Wittenbergers; he now told Luther that she was a virtuous maiden, a relative of Luther's own wife, and that he rejoiced to have honourably become his kinsman.

Very soon, however, the news of this unheard of event got wind. The Evangelicals were not less scandalised than their enemies, who in other respects were glad to see the mischief. The first to demand an explanation was the Ducal Court of Saxony, the Duke being so nearly related to Philip's first wife, and on the eve of a quarrel with Philip about a claim of inheritance. The Landgrave's whole position was in jeopardy; for bigamy, by the law of the Empire, was a serious offence. Luther heard now with indignation that the 'necessity' to which Philip had thought himself justified in yielding had been exaggerated. The latter, on the other hand, finding concealment no longer possible, wished to announce his marriage publicly, and defend it. He went so far as to imagine that even if the allies should renounce him he might still procure the favour and consideration of the Emperor. Unpleasant and very painful discussions arose between him, John Frederick, and Duke Henry of Saxony.

Meanwhile, the day was now approaching for the conference at Hagenau. Melancthon was sent there too by the Elector. But on reaching Weimar on June 13, where the prince was then staying, he suddenly fell ill, and it seemed as if his end was close at hand. He was oppressed with trouble and anxiety about the wrongdoing of the Landgrave. The Elector himself wrote reproachfully to Philip, saying that 'Philip Melancthon was disturbed with miserable thoughts about him,' and he now lay between life and death. Luther was sent for by the Elector from Wittenberg. He found the sick man lying in a state of unconsciousness and seemingly quite dead to the world. Shocked at the sight, he exclaimed, 'God help us! how has Satan marred this vessel of Thy grace!' Then the faithful, manly friend fell to praying God for his precious companion, casting, as he said, all his heart's request before Him, and reminding Him of all the promises contained in His own Word. He exhorted and bade Melancthon to be of good courage, for that God willed not the death of a sinner, and he would yet live to serve Him. He assured him he would rather now depart himself. On Melancthon's gradually showing more signs of life, he had some food prepared for him, and on his refusing it said, 'You really must eat, or I will excommunicate you.' By degrees the patient revived in body and soul. Luther was able to inform another friend, 'We found him dead, and by an evident miracle he lives.'

Luther, after this, was taken to Eisenach by his prince, to advise him on the news which he expected to receive there from Hagenau. At Eisenach he and the chancellor Bruck had an earnest consultation with envoys from Hesse. Against these, both Luther and Bruck insisted that the proceedings which had taken place between Philip and the theologians in respect to his marriage should be kept as secret as a confession, and that Philip must be content to have his second marriage regarded, in the eyes of the world and according to the law, as concubinage. He must make up his mind, therefore, to parry, as best he could, the questions which were being noised abroad about him, with vague statements or equivocations. He would then incur no further personal danger. But any attempt to brazen it out would inevitably land him in confusion and embarrassment, and only increase and continue the damage done to the Evangelical cause by this affair.

The Diet at Hagenau made no further demand on Luther's activity. It was there resolved to take in hand again, at another meeting to be held at Worms late in the autumn, and after further preparation, the religious and ecclesiastical questions at issue. Peaceably-disposed and competent men were to be appointed on both sides for this purpose. Thus Luther was now at liberty to leave Eisenach towards the end of July, and return home, dissatisfied, as he wrote to his wife, with the Diet at Hagenau, where labour and expense had been wasted, but happy in the thought that Melancthon had been restored from death to life.

At Worms the proceedings, in which Melancthon and Eck took a prominent part, were further adjourned to a Diet which the Emperor purposed to hold in person at Ratisbon early in 1541. Here, on April 27, a debate was opened on religion.

Luther entertained very slender expectations from all these conferences, considering the long-ascertained opinions of his opponents. He pointed to the innocent blood which had long stained the hands of the Emperor Charles and King Ferdinand. Still, during the Diet at Worms, the thought arose in his mind that, if only the Emperor were rightly disposed, a German Council might actually result from that assembly. He saw his enemies busy with their secret schemes of mischief, and feared lest many of his comrades in the faith, such as the Landgrave Philip, might treat too lightly the matter, which was no mere comedy among men, but a tragedy in which God and Satan were the actors. He rejoiced again, however, that the falsehood and cunning of his enemies must be brought to nought by their own folly, and that God Himself would consummate the great catastrophe of the drama. And in regard to the fear we have just mentioned, he declared that he, at any rate, would not suffer himself to be dragged into anything against his own conviction. 'Rather,' said he, 'would I take the matter again on my own shoulders, and stand alone, as at the beginning. We know that it is the cause of God, and He will carry it through to the end; whoever will not go with it, must remain behind.'

Between the Diets of Worms and Ratisbon he entered in 1541, with all his old severity, and with a violence even beyond his wont, into a bitter correspondence which had just then begun between Duke Henry of Brunswick—Wolfenbuttel, a zealous Catholic, and morally of ill repute with friend and foe, on the one side, and John Frederick and the Landgrave Philip, the heads of the Schmalkaldic League, on the other. He published against Duke Henry a pamphlet 'Against Hans Worst.' The Duke had taunted him with having allowed himself to call his own sovereign Hans Wurst. Luther assured him, in reply, that he had never given this name to a single man, whether friend or foe; but now applied it to the Duke, because he found it meant a stupid blockhead who wished to be thought clever and all the time spoke and acted like a simpleton. But he was not content with calling him a blockhead; he represented him as a profligate man, who, while libelling the princes and pretending to be the champion of God's ordinances, himself practised open adultery, committed acts of violence and insolent tyranny, and incited men to incendiarism in his opponents' territories. He would let the Duke scream himself hoarse or dead with his calumnies against John Frederick and the Evangelicals, and simply answer him by saying, 'Devil, thou liest! Hans Worst, how thou liest! O, Henry Wolfenbuttel, what a shameless liar thou art! Thou spittest forth much, and namest nothing; thou libellest, and provest nothing.' At the same time this pamphlet of Luther was a literary vindication of the Reformation and Protestantism; here, said he, and not in the popedom, was the true, ancient, and original Christian Church. Luther himself, on reading over his pamphlet after it was printed, thought its tone against Henry was too mild; a headache, he said, must have suppressed his indignation.

Just at this time he had to encounter a fresh and violent attack of illness. He described it, in a letter to Melancthon, who was then at Ratisbon, as a 'cold in the head;' it was accompanied not only with alarming giddiness, from which he was now a frequent sufferer, but also with deafness and intolerable pains, forcing tears from his eyes, something unusual with him, and making him call on God to put an end to his pain or to his life. A copious discharge of matter from his ear, which occurred in Passion Week, gave him relief; but for a long while he continued very weak and suffering. To his prince, who sent his private physician to attend him, he wrote on April 25, thanking him, and adding, 'I should have been well content if the dear Lord Jesus had taken me in His mercy from hence, as I am now of little more use on earth.' He attributed his recovery to the intercessions which Bugenhagen had made for him in the Church.

Whilst he was still feeling his head thus full of pain and unfit for work, he was called upon to give his opinion on the preparations for the religious conference at Ratisbon, and afterwards upon its results.

Bright prospects seemed now to be opening for the victory of the Gospel. Men of understanding and really desirous of peace had for once been commissioned, by the Catholics as well as by the Protestants, to conduct the debate. The chief actors were no longer an Eck, though he, too, was one of the collocutors, but the pious, gentle, and refined theologian Julius von Pflug, and the electoral counsellor of Cologne, Gropper, who vied with him in an earnest desire for reform and unity. Contarini also was there, as the Papal legate—a man influenced by purely religious motives, and a convert to the deeper Evangelical doctrine of salvation. Melancthon and Butzer were also there. The questions of most importance from the Evangelical point of view were first dealt with—namely, those which related, not to the external system and authority of the Church, but to man's need of, and the way to obtain, salvation, to sin, grace, and justification. And it was now unanimously confessed that the faithful soul is sustained solely by the righteousness given by Christ; and for His sake alone, and not for any worthiness or works of its own, is justified and accepted by God.

Never before, and never since, have Protestant and Catholic theologians approached each other so nearly, nay, been so unanimous, on these fundamental doctrines, as on that memorable day. And the Catholics, in this, distinctly left the ground of mediaval scholasticism, and went over to that of the Evangelicals. How distinctly this was done will be apparent to any one who compares the propositions accepted at the Conference of Ratisbon with the Catholic reply to the Augsburg Confession of 1530.

Nevertheless, we do not find that Luther felt particularly elated by the news from Ratisbon. The formula which embodied their agreement seemed to him a 'roundabout and patched affair.' In connection with faith, as the only means of justification, too much, he thought, was said of the works which must spring from it; in connection with the justification given to the faithful through Christ, too much was said of the righteousness which each Christian must strive to attain. He, too, had always taught and demanded both works and righteousness. But the present arrangement of clauses seemed to him calculated to lessen and obscure again the primary importance of Christ and of Faith, as the sole means of salvation. And we see what objection was uppermost in his mind, in his allusion to Eck, who also was obliged to subscribe the formula. Eck, said Luther, would never confess to having once taught differently to now, and would know well enough how to adopt the new tenets to his old way of thinking. They were putting a patch of new cloth upon an old garment, and the rent would be made worse. (Matt. ix. 16.)

Luther was spared, however, a decision as to the acceptance or non-acceptance of an agreement. For among the Catholic Estates of the Empire he found, so far as he had followed the debate of the Diet, too strong an opposition to hope for real union. Moreover, the collocutors themselves were unable to agree when they came to further questions, as, for example, the Mass and Transubstantiation; they still shipwrecked, therefore, on those points which were of the most vital importance for the external glorification of the priesthood and the Church, and the surrender of which would have meant the sacrifice of a dogma already ratified by a Conciliar decree.

On June 11 an embassy from Ratisbon appeared before Luther in the name of those Protestant states which were most zealous for unity. Prince John of Anhalt was at their head. Luther was requested to declare his concurrence with what had been done, and assist them in giving permanent effect to the articles agreed to at the Conference, and arranging some peaceful and tolerant compromise with regard to those points on which agreement had been impossible. Luther was quite prepared to acquiesce in such toleration, provided only the Emperor would permit the preaching of the articles referring to the doctrine of salvation, leaving it open to the Protestants to continue their warfare of the Word on the points still remaining in dispute. The Emperor, however, would only sanction those articles on the understanding that a Council should finally decide upon them, and that, in the meantime, all controversial writings on matters of religion should cease. By the Catholic Estates at the Diet they were strenuously opposed. Luther's own opinion remained substantially the same as before—namely, that any trust or hopes were vain, unless their enemies gave God the honour due to Him, and openly confessed that they had changed their teaching. The Emperor must see and acknowledge that within the last twenty years his Edict had been the murder of many pious people.

The Conference accordingly remained fruitless. The Diet, however, did not close without achieving an important result for the Protestants; for the Emperor granted them, at their request, the Religious Peace of Nuremberg.

The main reason that induced Charles so far to toleration and leniency was the trouble with the Turks. With regard to these, Luther now addressed himself once more to his countrymen with words of earnestness and weight. He published an 'Exhortation to prayer against the Turks,' teaching and warning his readers to regard them as a scourge of God, and make war against them as God commanded. From this time also dates his hymn

Lord, shield us with Thy Word, our Hope, And smite the Moslem and the Pope.

When a tax was levied for the war with the Turks, Luther himself begged the Elector not to exempt him with his scanty goods. He would gladly, he said, if not too old and too infirm, 'be one of the army himself.' In 1542 he brought out for his countrymen a refutation of the Koran, written in earlier days, that they might learn what a shameful faith was Mahomed's, and not suffer themselves to be perverted, in case by God's decree they should see the Turks victorious, or even fall into their hands.



CHAPTER VI.

PROGRESS AND INTEENAL TROUBLES OF PROTESTANTISM. 1541-44.

The Reformation, against which the Emperor had so repeatedly to promise his interference, and with which he was compelled to seek for a peaceful understanding, continued meanwhile to gain ground in various parts of Germany.



Luther hailed with especial joy its victory in the town of Halle, which had formerly been a favourite seat of the Cardinal Albert and the chief scene of his wanton extravagances, and where now one of Luther's most intimate and most learned friends from Wittenberg, Justus Jonas, was installed as reformer and Evangelical pastor. Here the final impetus was given to the movement, among the mass of the population, of whom the large majority had long espoused the cause of Luther, by those money difficulties which played such a serious and grievous part in the life of Albert. When, in the spring of 1541, the town was called on to pay taxes to the amount of 22,000 gulden, to defray the Cardinal's debts, the citizens made the payment conditional on their Council appointing an Evangelical preacher. Jonas was accordingly invited to the town, and received at once, on his arrival, a regular appointment through the magistracy and a committee of the congregation. In Passion Week, when Luther was recovering from his illness and Albert had to attend the Diet at Ratisbon, Jonas for the first time took his place in the principal church in the town, then recently rebuilt, in the pulpit which the Archbishop had had erected with elaborate carvings in stone. Soon after the two other churches in the town received Evangelical preachers. The general regulation of Church matters was entrusted to Jonas, and remained under his control. Luther, however, supported his friend with his advice, and continued on terms of trusted intimacy with him till his death. He did not conceal his joy that the 'wicked old rogue,' Albert, should have had to live to see this, and praised God for upholding His judgment upon earth. The collection of countless and wonderful relics with which the Cardinal, twenty years before, had sought to carry on the traffic in indulgences, so hateful to Luther, he now wished to exhibit in like manner at Mayence, his town of residence. Thereupon Luther, in 1542, published anonymously, but with the evident intention of being recognised as its author, a 'New Paper from the Rhine,' which announced to German Christendom a series of new, unheard-of relics, collected by his Highness the Elector, such as a piece of the left horn of Moses, three tongues of flame from his burning bush, &c., and lastly a whole drachm of his own true heart and half an ounce of his own truthful tongue, which his Highness had added as a legacy by his last will and testament. The Pope, said Luther, had promised to anyone who should give a gulden in honour of the relics, a remission for ten years of whatever sins he pleased. Contempt of this kind was all that Luther found the exhibition deserved. Albert remained silent.

About the same time the Elector John Frederick undertook a novel, important, though a dangerous, and to Luther an objectionable step, in connection with a bishopric then vacant. The Bishop of Naumburg had died. The Chapter of the Cathedral, with whom lay the election of his successor, were accustomed to guide their choice by the wish of the Elector, as their territorial sovereign. They now elected, without waiting to hear from John Frederick, who had seceded from Catholicism, the distinguished Julius von Pflug. The Elector, on the contrary, was anxious, as his privilege was hurt by this neglect, to nominate a bishop of his own choice, and, moreover, a member of the Augsburg Confession. His Chancellor, Bruck, protested earnestly against this step, and Luther could not refrain from endorsing his remonstrance. If the common herd of Papists, he said, had been content to look on and see what had been done to priests and monks, they and the Emperor would not care to see the same things done with the Episcopate. The Elector thought this pusillanimous; he wished to be bolder and more spirited than Luther. It was a pity only that his pious zeal lacked the more circumspect judgment of his advisers, and that the interests of his own authority were also concerned. He declined even to accept the advice of the Wittenberg theologians, who suggested that, at all events, the bishopric should be given to the eminent prince of the Empire, George of Anhalt, but chose Nicholas von Amsdorf—a man of better promise, not, indeed, solely from his theological principles, but as being likely to be more dependent on his territorial sovereign, though perhaps, as an unmarried man and a member of the nobility, less repugnant than any other Protestant theologian to the Catholics. On January 18, 1542, the Elector brought him in solemn state to Naumburg before the chapter there assembled.

Luther was glad, nevertheless, to see an Evangelical bishop. He took care to introduce him in Evangelical manner. According to the Catholic doctrine, as is well known, the Episcopate is transmitted from the Apostles by the act of consecration, with the laying on of hands and anointing, which can only be done by one bishop to another, and only a bishop can then consecrate priests or the clergy. The Reformers would easily have been able to continue this so-called Apostolical succession through the Prussian bishops who went over to them. But, as they never acknowledged the necessity of this with regard to the inferior clergy, neither did they with regard to the new bishop. Luther himself consecrated Amsdorf on January 20, together with two Evangelical superintendents of the neighbourhood, and the principal pastor and superintendent of the Evangelical congregation at Naumburg, with prayer and the laying on of hands, in the presence of the various orders and a multitude of people from the town and district assembled in the Cathedral. The congregation were first informed that an honest, upright bishop had now been nominated for them by their sovereign and his estates in concert with the clergy, and they were called upon to express their own approval by an Amen, which was thereupon given loudly in response. In this manner at least it was sought to comply with a rule especially enjoined by Cyprian: namely, that a bishop should be elected in an assembly of neighbouring bishops and with the consent of his own congregation. Luther gave an account of the ceremony in a tract, entitled 'Example of the way to consecrate a true Christian bishop.'



Bruck's apprehensions meantime were only too well founded. The complaints raised against this consecration weighed heavily with even the more moderate opponents of the Reformation, and especially with the Emperor. It was at the same time very evident that, as we have elsewhere observed, the Elector, good Churchman as he was by disposition, frequently displayed too little energy in regard to the general relations and interests of his Church. Thus the arrangements required for the bishopric remained neglected, and the new bishop was furnished with a most inadequate maintenance. Luther complained that the Electoral Court undertook great things, and then left them sticking in the mire. Moreover, among many of the temporal lords, even on the Protestant side, there were signs of spiteful jealousy and suspicion against the honours and advantages enjoyed by their theologians. Luther himself proceeded therefore with the utmost possible caution. He even declined once a present of venison from his friend Amsdorf, in order not to give occasion for calumny by the 'Centaurs at Court;' though, as he said, they themselves had devoured everything, without any prickings of conscience. 'Let them,' he wrote to Amsdorf, 'guzzle in God's name or in any other.'

Scarcely had the Elector's instalment of the bishop (1542) awakened these bitter feelings of resentment, when a war threatened to break out between the Elector and his cousin and fellow-Protestant, Duke Maurice of Saxony, the successor of his late father Henry—a war which would have imperilled more than anything else the position of the Protestants in the Empire, and which stirred and disquieted Luther to his inmost soul.

Between the ducal, or Albertine, and the Electoral, or Ernestine lines of the princely house of Saxony, various rights were in dispute, and among them, in particular, those of supreme jurisdiction over the little town of Wurzen, belonging to the bishopric of Meissen. When now the Bishop of Meissen refused to let the subsidy, levied at Wurzen for the war against the Turks, be forwarded to the Elector, the latter, in March 1542, quickly sent thither his troops. Maurice at once called out his own troops against him. Both continued to arm, and prepared to fight. Luther thereupon, in a letter of April 7, intended for publication, appealed to them and their Estates in terms of heartfelt Christian fervour and perfect frankness. He reminded them of the Scriptural admonition to keep peace; of the close relationship of the two princes as the sons of two sisters; of their noble birth; of their subjects, the burghers and peasants, who were so closely intermingled by marriage that the war would be no war, but a mere family brawl; furthermore, of the petty ground of their fierce contention, just as if two drunken rustics were fighting in a tavern about a glass of beer, or two idiots about a bit of bread; of the shame and scandal for the Gospel; and of the triumph of their enemies and the devil, who would rejoice to see this little spark kindle into a conflagration. If either of the two, instead of using force, would declare himself content with what was just and right, whether it were his own Elector or the Duke, Luther for his part would assist him with his prayers, and he might then trust himself with confidence against aggression, and leave spear and musket to the children of discontent. He told the others that they had incurred the ban and the vengeance of God; nay, he advised all who had to fight under such an unpeaceful prince to run from the field as fast as they could.

The Landgrave Philip, who had hitherto, on account of his second marriage, continued somewhat on strained terms with John Frederick, brought about at this critical moment a peaceful understanding between him and Maurice. The young duke, however, burned with an ambition which longed to satisfy itself, even at the expense of his cousin and other Protestant princes, and his power, moreover, was far superior to the Elector's. Luther augured evil for the future.

The Reformation was now accepted in the territory also of Duke Henry of Brunswick. The Landgrave Philip and John Frederick had taken the field together against him, on account of his having attacked the Evangelical town of Goslar and sought defiantly to execute against it a sentence, in connection with ecclesiastical matters, which had threatened it from the Imperial Chamber, but was suspended by the Emperor. This war against 'Henry the Incendiary' Luther considered just and necessary, the question being one of protecting the oppressed. Wolfenbuttel, whose fortress the Duke boasted to be impregnable, speedily succumbed on August 13, 1542, to the fate of war and the boldness of Philip. Luther saw with triumph how the fortress which, it was reputed, could stand a six years' siege, had fallen in three days by the help of God. He hoped only that the conquerors would be humble and give the glory of the exploit to God. They then occupied the land, the prince of which fled, and proceeded to establish the Evangelical Church, in accordance with the general wish of the population.

Maurice of Saxony, who still strenuously adhered to the Evangelical confession and to his rights as protector of the Church, not only continued the reformation commenced in the Duchy by his father, but succeeded in extending it peacefully to the bishopric of Merseburg. The chapter there decided, in 1544, on his nomination, to elect to the vacant see his young brother Augustus, who, not being himself an ecclesiastic, delegated at once his episcopal functions to George of Anhalt, Luther's pious-minded friend. Luther in the summer of the following year consecrated him, in the same manner as Amsdorf, together with several superintendents, and with Bugenhagen, Cruciger, and Jonas.

Events far greater and more important were occurring in the archbishopric of Cologne. Here an Archbishop at once and Elector, the aged, worthy Hermann of Wied, had resolved, from his own free conviction, to undertake a reformation on the basis of the Gospel. In 1543 he invited Melancthon for this purpose from Wittenberg. Melancthon's fellow-labourer was Butzer, who had the reputation of always allowing himself to be carried too far by his zeal for general unity in the Church, and at the same time, in regard to the doctrine of the Sacrament, even as accepted by the Wittenberg Concord, of preferring a more vague conception of his own. Luther, however, promoted the undertaking with thanks to God, himself furthered Melancthon's going, assured him of his entire confidence, and learned from him with joy of the Archbishop's uprightness, penetration, and constancy. In like manner, the Bishop of Munster also began to attempt a reformation, in conformity with the wishes of his Estates.

The Emperor at length, who since 1542 had been again at war with France, and who needed therefore all the assistance that his German Estates could give him, displayed at a new Diet at Spires, in 1544, more gracious consideration to the Protestants than he had ever done before. In the Imperial Recess he promised not only to endeavour to bring about a general Council, to be assembled in Germany, but undertook, since the meeting of such a Council was still uncertain, to convoke another Diet, which should itself deal with the religion in dispute. In the meantime, he and the various Estates of the Empire would consider and prepare a scheme for Christian unity and a general Christian reformation. The Archbishop Albert, now wholly embittered against the Reformation, had issued a warning, after the Diet of 1541, against any agreement to hold a Council on German soil, as the Protestant poison would here have too powerful an influence; in a national German Council he foresaw the threatening danger of a schism. The resolutions passed at Spires brought down severe reproaches from the Pope against the Emperor. What particularly scandalised his Christian Holiness was that laymen—aye, laymen, who supported the condemned heretics—were to sit as judges in matters concerning the Church and the priesthood.

Protestantism, both in its extent and power, had now reached a point of progress in the German Empire which seemed to offer a possibility of its becoming the religion of the great majority of the nation, and even of this majority being united. Charles V., nevertheless, kept his eyes steadily fixed on his original goal—nay, he probably felt himself nearer to it than ever. By his concessions he obtained an army, which enabled him in the September of that year to conclude a durable peace with King Francis, stipulating, as before, but secretly, for mutual co-operation for the restoration of Catholic unity in the Church. The next thing to be done was to persuade the Pope at length to convene a Council, which should serve this object in the sense intended by the Emperor, and then to enforce by its authority the final subjection of the Protestants.

This possibility of a final triumph of Protestantism might have been counted on with hope, if only that breath of the Spirit which had once been stirred by the Reformer and had already responded to his efforts had remained in full force and vigour in the hearts of the German people; and if the new Spirit, thus awakened, had really penetrated the masses, or, at least, the influential classes and high personages who espoused the new faith, and had purified and strengthened them to fight, to work, and to suffer. But Luther complained from the very first, and more and more as time went on, how sadly this Spirit was wanting to assist him in proclaiming the Gospel and combating the anti-Christian system of Rome. Thus he again complained, when hearing of what had happened at Cologne, at Munster, and at Brunswick, that 'much evil and little good happens to us;' he adapted to his own Church community the proverb, 'The nearer Rome, the worse, the Christian,' as well as the words of the prophets, lamenting the iniquity of Jerusalem, the holy city. In his zeal he reproached the Evangelical congregations even more severely than his Catholic and Popish opponents would ever have ventured to reproach them, inasmuch as their own moral position, to say the least, was not a whit better. But against the former, his own brethren, Luther had to complain of base ingratitude to God for the signal benefits He had vouchsafed them. Thus the peasantry, in particular, he taxed again and again with their old selfish and obstinate indifference and stupidity; the burghers with their luxury and service of Mammon; and his fellow-countrymen in general with their gluttony and their coarse and carnal appetites. It pained him most to see these sins prevail among his nearest fellow-townsmen and followers, his Wittenbergers; and he lashed out with all his force against the students whom, as a class, he saw addicted to unchastity and to 'swinish vices,' as he called them. The authorities, in his opinion, were far too unmindful of their high appointment by God, of which he had taken such pains to assure them. When Church discipline came to be really introduced and made more stringent, he foresaw quite well that it would only touch the peasants, and not reach the upper classes. Among the great nobles at Court, especially at Dresden, but also at that of the Elector, he found 'violent Centaurs and greedy Harpies,' who preyed upon the Reformation and disgraced it, and in whose midst it was difficult—nay, impossible—even for an honest, right-minded ruler to govern as a true Christian. He had already, and especially in these latter years, been in conflict with lawyers, including some of well-recognised conscientiousness, such as his colleague and friend Schurf, about many questions in which they declared themselves unable to deviate from theories of the canon or even the Roman law, which he considered unchristian and immoral. He declared it, for example, to be an insult to the law of God that they should insist so strongly on the obligation of vows of marriage, made by young people in secret and against their parents' will. So far from anticipating the triumph of the Evangelical religion, while such was the condition of Germans and German Protestants, he predicted with anxiety heavy punishment for his country, and declared that God would assuredly cause the confessors of the Gospel to be purged and sifted by calamity.

Just at that time, when a decisive moment was approaching for the great ecclesiastical contest in Germany, Luther felt himself constrained to rend asunder once more the bond of peace and mutual toleration which had been established with such trouble between himself and the Swiss Evangelicals. In doing so, he had seen no reason either to change or conceal his old opinion about Zwingli. The Swiss, on the other hand, offended by Luther's utterances, took, in a manner, their honoured teacher and reformer under their protection; from which Luther concluded that they still clung to all his errors. A lurking distrust of Luther had never been wholly dispelled among them. Luther heard, moreover, of corrupting influences still exercised by the Sacramentarians outside Switzerland. A letter reached him to that effect from some of his adherents at Venice, whose complaints of the mischievous results of the Sacramental controversy among their fellow-worshippers ascribed that controversy to the continued influence of Zwinglianism. In August 1543 he wrote to the Zurich printer Froschauer, who had presented him with a translation of the Bible made by the preacher of that town, saying briefly and frankly that he could have no fellowship with them, and that he had no desire to share the blame of their pernicious doctrine; he was sorry 'that they should have laboured in vain, and should after all be lost.' Even in a scheme of reformation which Butzer, with Melancthon, had prepared for Cologne, he now discovered some suspicious articles about the Sacrament, to which a criticism of Amsdorf had drawn his notice; they passed over, it appeared, Luther's declaration, already agreed on, about the substantial presence of Christ's Body in the Sacrament, or merely 'mumbled it,' as was Luther's expression. Nay, he heard it said that even Wittenberg and himself would not adhere to his doctrine on this point. Occasion, indeed, was given for this remark by the circumstance that the ancient usage of the Elevation of the Host, which, though connected with the Catholic idea of sacrifice, had nevertheless been hitherto retained, though interpreted in another sense, was now at length abolished at Wittenberg. After much anger and discontent, Luther broke out, in September 1544, with the tract, 'Short Confession of the Holy Sacrament.' He had nothing to do with any new refutation of false teachers—these, he said, had already been frequently convicted by him as open blasphemers—but simply to testify once more against the 'fanatics and enemies of the Sacrament, Carlstadt, Zwingli, Oecolampadius, Schwenkfeld, and their disciples,' and once and for all to renounce all fellowship with these lost souls.

Alarming reports were spread about attacks being also meditated by Luther against Butzer and Melancthon. Melancthon himself trembled; he seriously feared he should be compelled to retire into exile. But not a word did Luther say against Butzer, beyond calling him, as he did now, a chatterbox. Against Melancthon we find nowhere, not even in Luther's letters to his intimate friends, a single harsh or menacing expression from his lips. He maintained his confidence in him, even in respect to the later proceedings in the Church. When urged to publish a collection of his Latin writings, he long refused to do so, as he says in the preface to his edition of 1545, because there were already such excellent works on Christian doctrine, such as, in particular, the 'Loci Communes' of Melancthon, which its author had recently revised. It must be regretted that Melancthon, at moments like these, which must have caused him pain, did not open his heart with more freedom and courage to the friend whose heart still beat with such warm and unchanging affection for himself.

Luther never, till the day of his death, bestowed much care or calculation on the immediate consequences of his acts and of the work to which he felt himself called and urged by God, and which certainly brought out in strong relief the individuality of his nature. While committing, as he did, the cause to God alone, he kept steadily in view the ultimate goal to which God was surely guiding it—nay, that goal was immediately before his eyes. His confident belief in the near approach of the last day, when the Lord would solve all these earthly doubts and difficulties, and manifest Himself in the perfect glory and bliss of His kingdom, remained in him unaltered from the beginning of his struggle to the end of his labours. We recognise in this belief the intensity of his own longings, wrestlings, and strivings for this end, as also the sincerity of his own conviction, little as the days of which we are now speaking, so busy with events of every kind, corresponded with the time ordained by God. Luther stretched out his view and aspirations beyond this world, all the time that he was teaching Christians again how to honour the world in the moral duties assigned to them, and to enjoy its blessings and benefits with thankfulness to God. 'No man knoweth the day or the hour'—of this he constantly reminded them, and warned them against idle speculations. But his hopes, nevertheless, he still rested on the nearness of the end. These hopes he expressed with peculiar assurance in a small Latin tract, written during these later years of his life, in which he treats of Biblical chronology, and further of the epochal years in the history of the world. In referring, for example, to the wide-spread theory, originating with the Jews, of a great Week of six thousand years, to be followed by the final and everlasting Day of Rest, he sought with much ingenuity of reasoning to prove that of those six thousand years probably only half would be accomplished. Since now, according to his chronology, the year 1,540 was the 5,500th year of the world, the end was bound to be at hand—nay, was already overdue—when his little book appeared in 1541. Yet, whatever were his views on this point, he never, like so many others, allowed himself to be drawn by such hopes and desires into illusions dangerous in practice.

This year passed by without any further or greater literary labour on his part.

In addition to this continued polemic against the popedom and false teachers, we must not omit to mention some characteristic controversial writings, provoked from him by his indignation at the attacks on Christianity by Jews, nay, by their seduction of many Christians. As early as 1538, a strange rumour of a 'Jewish rabble' in Moravia—a country rich in sectaries—having induced Christians to accept the Mosaic law, had called forth from him a public 'Letter against the Sabbathers.' He launched out with vehemence against them in 1543 in some further tracts, inveighing mainly against the dirty insults and savage blasphemies which the brazen-faced Jews dared to employ towards Christ and Christians, and also against the usurers, in whose toils the Christians were ensnared. He declared even that their synagogues, the scene of their blasphemies and calumnies, should be burnt, and they themselves compelled to take to honest handicraft, or be hunted from the country.

In the grand and beautiful labour of his life, the German translation of the Bible, he was busily occupied until his death. After the second chief edition had appeared, in 1541, he endeavoured to improve, at least in some points, those which followed in 1543 and 1545. He meditated also revising and further improving the most important of his sermons, which have been left to posterity. After having undertaken this task in 1540 with a number of them, he caused three years later the 'Summer-Postills,' which Roth had previously edited and brought out, to be published in a new form by his colleague Cruciger. This work was now completed by the addition of his sermons on the Epistles.

We have already seen how earnestly, even before the great end should come, Luther longed for his eternal rest, and for release from the struggles and labours of his earthly life, and the burden of his bodily suffering. He spoke of his death with calmness but with deep earnestness, and, indeed, with a touch of humour which pained those who heard him speak, or read his writings. Thus, when in March 1544 the Elector's wife, Sybil, asked him 'anxiously and diligently' about his own health and that of his wife and children, he answered: 'Thank God, we are well, and better than we deserve of God. But no wonder, if I am sometimes shaky in the head. Old age is creeping on me, which in itself is cold and unsightly, and I am ill and weak. The pitcher goes to the well until it breaks. I have lived long enough; God grant me a happy end, that this useless body may reach His people beneath the earth, and go to feed the worms. Consider that I have seen the best that I shall ever see on earth. For it looks as if evil times were coming. God help his own. Amen.'



CHAPTER VII.

LUTHER'S LATER LIFE: DOMESTIC AND PERSONAL DETAILS.

Frequently as Luther complained of his old age and ever-increasing weakness, lassitude, and uselessness, his writings and letters give evidence not only of an indomitable power and unquenchable ardour, but also, and often enough, of those cheerful, merry moods, which rose superior to all his sufferings, disappointments, and anger. He himself declared that his many enemies, especially the sectaries, who were always attacking him, always made him young again. The true source of his strength he found in his Lord and Saviour, Whose strength is made perfect in weakness, and to Whom he clung with a firm and tranquil faith. To this, indeed, we must add one particularly favourable influence, in regard to his life and calling, which had been awakened since his marriage. In speaking of his family, his wife, and his children, he is always full of thanks to God; his heart swells with emotion, and he breathes amid his heated labours and struggles a fresh and bracing air. Just as, during the Diet of Augsburg, he had pointed out encouragingly to the Elector the happy Paradise which God had allowed to bloom for him in his little boys and girls, so he himself was permitted to experience and enjoy this Paradise at home. In his domestic no less than in his public life he saw a vocation marked out for him by God; not, indeed, as if he, the Reformer, had here any peculiar path of life, or exceptional duties to perform, but so that in that holy estate ordained for all men, however despised by arrogant monks and priests, and dishonoured by the sensual, he felt himself called on to serve God, as was the duty of all men and all Christians alike, and to enjoy the blessings which God had given him.



Five children were now growing up. The eldest, John, or Hanschen (Jack), was followed, during the troublous days of 1527, by his first little daughter, Elizabeth. Eight months after, as he told a friend, she already said good-bye to him, to go to Christ, through death to life; and he was forced to marvel how sick at heart, nay, almost womanish, he felt at her departure. In May 1529 he was comforted to some extent by the birth of a little Magdalene or Lenchen (Lena). Then followed the boys: Martin in 1531, and Paul in 1533. The former was born only a few days—if not the very day—before the feast of St. Martin, and the birthday of his father; hence he received the same name. His son Paul he named in memory of the great Apostle, to whom he owed so much. At his baptism he expressed the hope that 'perhaps the Lord God might train up in him a new enemy of the Pope or the Turks.' The youngest child was a little daughter, Margaret, who was born in 1534.

His family included also an aunt of his wife, Magdalene von Bora. She had been formerly a nun in the same cloister as her niece, where she had filled the post of head-nurse. She lived among Luther's children like a beloved grandmother. It was she whom Luther meant by the 'Aunt Lena,' of whom he wrote to his little Hans in 1530 saying, 'Give her a kiss from me;' and when in 1537 he was able to travel homewards from Schmalkald, where he had been in such imminent peril of death, he wrote to his wife: 'Let the dear little children, together with Aunt Lena, thank their true Father in Heaven.' She died, probably, shortly afterwards. Luther comforted her with the words: 'You will not die, but sleep away as in a cradle, and when the morning dawns, you will rise and live for ever.'



At this time Luther had two orphan nieces living with him, Lene and Else Kaufmann of Mansfeld, sisters of Cyriac, whom we found with him at Coburg, and also a young relative, of whom we know nothing further than that her name was Anna. Lene was betrothed in 1538 to the worthy treasurer of the University of Wittenberg, Ambrosius Berndt, and Luther gave the wedding. He used also from time to time to have some young student nephews at his house.



When his boys grew up and the time came for them to learn, he had a resident tutor for them. For his own assistance he engaged a young man as amanuensis; thus we find Veit Dietrich with him at Coburg in this capacity. We hear afterwards of a young pupil—indeed, of two or more—who lived with Dietrich at Luther's house. This seems, however, to have somewhat overtaxed his wife; in the autumn of 1534 Dietrich left his house on that account.



Luther, like other professors, used to take several students for payment to his table. Among these there were men of riper years who were eager, nevertheless, to share in the studies at Wittenberg, and, above all things, to make his acquaintance. Besides this, his house was open to a number of guests, theologians and others, of high or low degree, who called on him in passing through the town.

The dwelling-place of this large and growing household was a portion of the former Convent. The Elector John Frederick had assigned it to Luther for his own. The house, which had not been completed when the Reformation began, was still unfinished when Luther went there, and it needed many improvements. The present richer architectural features of the building date from a very recent restoration. It stood against the town wall, and was protected by the Elbe. His own small study looked out in this direction, and formed a gable above the water of the moat; though, as he complained in 1530, it was threatened with alterations for military purposes, and perhaps during his lifetime fell a prey to them. Only one of the larger rooms of the house, situated in front, has been preserved in the recollection of posterity, and is now called Luther's room. It was probably the chief sitting-room of the family.

The young couple possessed at first a very slender maintenance. Neither of them had any private means. When, in 1527, Luther was lying apparently on his deathbed, he had nothing to leave his wife but the cups which had been given him as presents, and it happened that he was obliged to pawn even these to find money for their immediate wants.

By degrees, however, his income and property increased. His salary as professor at the University (he received no honorarium for his lectures) was raised on his marriage by the Elector John from 100 to 200 gulden, and John Frederick added 100 gulden more—the value of a gulden at that time being equal to about 16 marks of the present German money. He received, also, regular payments in kind. Now and then he had a special present from the Elector, such as a fine piece of cloth, a cask of wine, or some venison, with greetings from his Highness. In 1536 John Frederick sent him two casks of wine, saying that it was that year's growth of his vineyards, and that Luther would find how good it was when he tasted it. Luther's share of his father's property was 250 gulden, which he was to be paid later in small instalments by his brother James, who was heir to the real estate. In 1539 Bugenhagen brought him from Denmark an offering of 100 gulden, and two years afterwards the Danish king gave him and his children an allowance of 50 gulden a year. Luther never troubled himself much about his expenses, and gave with generous liberality what he earned. His wife kept things together for the household, managed it with business-like energy and talent, and tried to add to their income.

They enlarged their garden by buying some more strips adjoining it, as well as a field. In 1540 Luther purchased for 610 gulden from a brother of his wife, who was in needy circumstances, the small farm of Zulsdorf or Zulsdorf, between Leipzig and Borna—it must not be confounded with another village of the same name. The market at Wittenberg being usually very poorly furnished, his wife sought to supply their domestic wants by her own economy. She planted the garden with all sorts of trees, among these even mulberry-trees and fig-trees, and she cultivated also hops; and there was a small fish-pond. This little property she loved to manage and superintend in person. At Wittenberg she brewed, as was then the custom, their own beer, the Convent being privileged in that respect. We hear of her keeping a number of pigs, and arranging for their sale. Luther incidentally makes mention of a coachman among his other servants. Finally, in 1541, Luther purchased a small house near his residence at the Convent, fearing that he would have to give up the latter entirely for the work of fortification, and thus be prevented from leaving it to his wife. He was only obliged in ten years to pay off a portion of the purchase money.

In this happy married life and home the great Reformer found his peace and refreshment; in it he found his vocation as a man, a husband, and a father. Speaking from his own experience he said: 'Next to God's Word, the world has no more precious treasure than holy matrimony. God's best gift is a pious, cheerful, God-fearing, home-keeping wife, with whom you may live peacefully, to whom you can entrust your goods, and body, and life.' He speaks of the married state, moreover, as a life which, if rightly led, is full to overflowing of good works. He knows, on the other hand, of many 'stubborn and strange couples, who neither care for their children, nor love each other from their hearts.' Such people, he said, were not human beings; they made their homes a hell.

In his language about this life and his own conduct in it, there is no trace of sentimentality, exaggerated emotion, or artificial idealism. It is a strong, sturdy, and, as many have thought, a somewhat rough genuineness of nature, but at the same time full of tenderness, purity, and fervour; and with it is combined that heartfelt and loyal devotion to his Heavenly Creator and Lord, and to His Will and His commands, which marked the character of Luther to the last.

With regard to his children, Luther had resolved from the moment of their birth to consecrate them to God, and wean them from a wicked, corrupt, and accursed world. In several of his letters he entreats his friends with great earnestness to stand godfather to one of his children, and to help the poor little heathen to become a Christian, and pass from the death of sin to a holy and blessed regeneration. In making this request of a young Bohemian nobleman, then staying in his house, on behalf of his son Martin, he grew so earnest that, to the surprise of all present, his voice trembled; this, he said, was caused by the Holy Spirit of God, for the cause he was pleading was God's, and it demanded reverence. And yet, in the simple, natural, innocent, and happy ways of children he recognised the precious handiwork of God and His protecting Hand. He loved to watch the games and pleasures of his little ones; all they did was so spontaneous and so natural. Children, he said, believe so simply and undoubtedly that God is in Heaven and is their God and their dear Father, and that there is everlasting life. On hearing one day one of his children prattling about this life and of the great joy in Heaven with eating, and dancing, and so forth, he said, 'Their life is the most blessed and the best; they have none but pure thoughts and happy imaginations.' At the sight of his little children seated round the table, he called to mind the exhortation of Jesus, that we must 'become as little children;' and added, 'Ah! dear God! Thou hast done clumsily in exalting children—such poor little simpletons—so high. Is it just and right that Thou shouldst reject the wise, and receive the foolish? But God our Lord has purer thoughts than we have; He must, therefore, refine us, as said the fanatics; He must hew great boughs and chips from us, before He makes such children and little simpletons of us.'

In what a childlike spirit Luther understood to talk to his children is shown by his letter from Coburg to his little Hans, then fourteen years old. He himself taught them to pray, to sing, and to repeat the Catechism. Of his little daughter Margaret he could tell one of her godfathers how she had learnt to sing hymns when only four years old. His hymn 'From the highest Heaven I come,' the freshest, most joyful, most childlike song that has ever been heard from children's lips at Christmas, he composed as a father who celebrated that joyous festival with his own children. It appeared first in the year 1535. He might well, after the manner of old Festival plays, have let an angel step in among them, who in the opening verses should bring them the good tidings in the Gospel, to which they should answer with 'Therefore let us all be joyful.' The words 'Therefore I am always joyful, Free to dance and free to sing,' call to mind an old custom of accompanying the Christmas Hymn with a dance.

Luther warned against all outbursts of passion and undue severity towards children, and carefully guarded himself against such errors, remembering the bitter experiences of his own childhood in that respect. But he could be angry and strict enough when occasion required; he used to say he would rather have a dead son than a bad one.

There was no really good school at Wittenberg for his boys, and Luther himself could not devote as much time to them as they required. He took a resident tutor for them, a young theologian. His boy John nevertheless gave some trouble with his teaching and bringing up. His father, contrary to his own wishes, seems to have been too weak, and his mother's fondness for her first-born seems to have somewhat spoilt him. Luther gave the boy over afterwards to his friend Mark Crodel, the Rector of the school at Torgau, whom he held in high respect as a grammarian, and as a pedagogue of grave and strict morals.



His favourite child was little Lena, a pious, gentle, affectionate little girl, and devoted to him with her whole heart. A charming picture of her remains, by Cranach, a friend of the family. But she died in the bloom of early youth, on September 20, 1542, after a long and severe illness. The grief he had felt at the loss of his daughter Elizabeth was now renewed and intensified. When she was lying on her sick-bed, he said, 'I love her very much indeed; but, dear God, if it is Thy will to take her hence, I would gladly she were with Thee.' To Magdalene herself he said, 'Lena, dear, my little daughter, thou wouldst love to remain here with thy father; art thou willing to go to that other Father?' 'Yes, dear father,' she answered; 'just as God wills.' And when she was dying, he fell on his knees beside her bed, wept bitterly, and prayed for her redemption, and she fell asleep in his arms. As she lay in her coffin, he looked at her and exclaimed, 'Ah! my darling Lena, thou wilt rise again and shine like a star—yea, as the sun;' and added, 'I am happy in the spirit, but in the flesh I am very sorrowful. The flesh will not be subdued: parting troubles one above measure; it is a wonderful thing to think that she is assuredly in peace, and that all is well with her, and yet to be so sad.' To the mourners he said, 'I have sent a saint to Heaven: could mine be such a death as hers, I would welcome such a death this moment.' He expressed the same sorrow, and the same exultation in his letters to his friends. To Jonas he wrote: 'You will have heard that my dearest daughter Magdalene is born again in the everlasting kingdom of Christ. Although I and my wife ought only to thank God with joy for her happy departure, whereby she has escaped the power of the world, the flesh, the Turks and the devil, yet so strong is natural love that we cannot bear it without sobs and sighs from the heart, without a bitter sense of death in ourselves. So deeply printed on our hearts are her ways, her words, her gestures, whether alive or dying, that even Christ's death cannot drive away this agony.' His little Hans, whom his sick sister longed to see once more, he had sent for from Torgau a fortnight before she died: he wrote for that purpose to Crodel, saying 'I would not have my conscience reproach me afterwards for having neglected anything.' But when several weeks later, about Christmas-time, under the influence of grief and the tender words which his mother had spoken to him, a desire came over the boy to leave Torgau and live at home, his father exhorted him to conquer his sorrow like a man, not to increase by his own the grief of his mother, and to obey God, who had appointed him, through his parents' direction, to live at Torgau.

The care of the children and of the whole household fell to the share of Frau Luther, and her husband could trust her with it in perfect confidence. She was a woman of strong, ruling, practical nature, who enjoyed hard work and plenty of it. She served her husband at all times, after her own manner, with faithful and affectionate devotion. He must often have felt grateful, amidst his physical and mental sufferings, and the violent storms and temptations that vexed his soul, that a helpmate of such a sound constitution, such strong nerves, and such a clever, sensible mind should have fallen to his share.

Luther lived with her in thankful love and harmony; nor have even the calumnies of malicious enemies been able to cast a shadow of doubt upon the perfect concord of his married life. In his 'Table Talk' he says of her: 'I am, thank God, very well, for I have a pious, faithful wife, on whom a man may safely rest his heart.' And again he said once to her, 'Katie, you have a pious husband, who loves you; you are an empress.' In words now grave, now humorous, he told her of his tender love for her; and how trustful and open-hearted were their relations to each other we gather from the way in which he mocks and occasionally teases her for her little weaknesses. In later life and in his last letters he calls her his 'heartily beloved housewife' and his 'darling,' and he often signs himself 'your love' and 'your old love,' and again 'your dear lord.' Still he said frankly and quietly that his original suspicion that Catharine was proud was well-founded. In some of his letters he speaks of her as his 'lord Katie' and his 'gracious wife,' and of himself as her 'willing servant.' Once he declared that if he had to marry again, he would carve an obedient wife out of stone, as he despaired of finding obedience in wives. He spoke also of the talkativeness of his Katie. Referring to her loving but over-anxious care for him on his last journey, he called her a holy, careful woman. From her thrift and energy she gained from him the nicknames of Lady Zulsdorf, and Lady of the Pigmarket; thus one of his last letters is addressed to 'my heartily beloved housewife, Catharine, Lady Luther, Lady Doctor, Lady Zulsdorf, Lady of the Pigmarket, and whatever else she may be.'

The 'careful' Catharine was not permitted to check the kind liberality of her husband. His friend Mathesius tells us, of their early married life, 'A poor man made him a pitiful tale of distress, and having no cash with him, Luther came to his wife—she being then confined—for the god-parents' money, and brought it to the poor man, saying, 'God is rich, He will supply what is wanted.' Afterwards, however, he grew more careful, seeing how often he was imposed upon. 'Rogues,' he said, 'have sharpened my wits.' An example of how particular, nay anxious, he was never even to let it seem that he sought for presents or other profit for himself, was given in his letter to Amsdorf, declining a gift of venison. He wrote once to the Elector John, who had sent him an offering: 'I have unfortunately more, especially from your Highness, than I can conscientiously keep. As a preacher, it is not fitting for me to enjoy a superfluity, nor do I covet it; ... therefore I beseech your Highness to wait until I ask of you.' In 1539, when Bugenhagen brought to him the hundred gulden from the King of Denmark, he wished to give him half of it, for the service Bugenhagen had rendered him during his absence. For his office of preacher in the town church he never received any payment; the town from time to time made him a present of wine from the council-cellar, and lime and stones for building his house. For his writings he received nothing from the publishers. Against over-anxious cares and troubles, and setting her heart too much on worldly possessions, he earnestly cautioned his wife, and insisted that amid the numerous household matters she should not neglect to read the Bible. Once in 1535 he promised her fifty gulden if she would read the Bible through, whereupon, as he told a friend, it became a 'very serious matter to her.'