Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To which Luther replied:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luther has left no record of his feelings when he was dragged from his carriage, mounted on a horse and spirited away. If he at first supposed himself to be a real captive he was soon informed that he was in the hands of friends. He was taken in the darkness and silence of the night tothe castle at Wartburg, eight miles distant, by the order of the Elector Frederick, as a means of protecting him, where he spent the next ten months. He doffed his monk’s gown, put on the garb of a country gentleman, let his beard grow, and was known as “Junker George.” His time was spent in meditation, translating the New Testament into German and writing.

At Wartburg he began that course of interference with political administration and ecclesiastical organization which made his later years as a reformer so different from his earlier, and in the end led him to the practical denial of nearly every principle that he had affirmed. His own protection by the Elector Frederick against the combined power of pope and emperor made clear to him, he thought, the method by which a reformation might be attempted. While at Wartburg he thought out and wrote what he entitled, “Warning to all Christians to Abstain from Rebellion and Sedition,” in which he maintained the principle from which he never thereafter departed, that the civil Rulers had both the right and the duty to undertake the reformation of the church, and that any other principle was impracticable and dangerous. That there be no mistaking his meaning I give his words:

Therefore have regard to the rulers. So long as they undertake nothing and give no command, keep quiet with hand, mouth and heart, and undertake nothing. If you can persuade rulers to undertake and command, you may do it. If they will not you should not. But if you proceed, you are wrong and much worse than the other party.

This no doubt was called forth by the news of the proceedings at Wittenberg. For even with Luther away, Wittenberg, with its growing, aggressive university, was the center of the Reformation. New thoughts had been put into men’s minds, new aspirations, new purposes had come into their hearts. Luther had long before preached that the mass was wrong, but had gone right along celebrating it, and so had he taught about other things, but continued to practice them. His teaching had taken deep root, and Zwilling, chaplain of the Augustinian convent, a bold, zealous and eloquent man, who had the confidence of the people,declared that the mass ought to be abolished and that it was a sin to celebrate it. “The members of the convent, the prior excepted, agreed with him. The prior asserted his authority; the monks rebelled; the elector interfered and referred the case to the university. The university decided in favor of Zwilling and the monks, Melanchthon writing the opinion.” He attacked earnestly and bitterly monastic vows, celibacy, clerical garb, the use of images and pictures in the churches. His teaching strongly implied that liberty could not be attained till all these things were swept away.

The movement to put these exhortations into practice began first among the clergy. Two priests in parishes near Wittenberg married; several monks left their cloisters and donned the garments of the common people; Melanchthon and several of his students “communicated in both kinds in the church,” and his example was followed by others. Images were condemned and cast out of the churches. No one knew what would next be done, and disturbing rumors were being circulated. Carlstadt now took the lead and announced that on the first day of the new year he would “celebrate the Lord’s Supper after the ancient manner in both kinds. When opposition threatened he anticipated the time and held the service on Christmas day. A beginning was made; opposition was silenced and Carlstadt had his way.”

Things were going too fast for the Elector Frederick, too fast for Luther. In his quiet retreat in Wartburg he wrote against the mass and monkish vows, “but how great a step there is between condemning old customs in our hearts and changing them with our hands—between the thoughts and the act!” On being informed of the reformatory movements in Wittenberg, Luther resented it, and most sharply reproved them for practicing what he had preached. In a letter written to the Wittenbergers in December, 1521, he said:

They have introduced changes in the mass and images, attacked the sacrament and other things that are of no account, and have let love and faith go; just as though all the world hereabouts had great understanding in these matters, which is not the fact; and so many have brought it about that many pious people have been stirred up to do what is really the devil’s work. It would, indeed, be a good thing to begin such changes,if we could all together have the needful faith; and if they suited the church in such measure that no one could take offense at them. But this can never be. We can not all be as Carlstadt. Therefore we must yield to the weak; otherwise those who are strong will run far, and the weak who can not follow them at like pace will be run down.

It was not by Luther, but by men of a different type, that this practical work was begun. There was sore need for a Zwilling and a Carlstadt. This was an occasion when those who were called fanatics did a real service for mankind. They were strong in their convictions, saw only one thing, reckless of all consequences, and brave where other men are appalled, and with no misgivings kindled a fire that wrapped the world in flame. Had it not been for what they did, “Luther’s writing and preaching might have ended in preaching and writing. They saw that something must be done, and they did it!” While this was needful in precipitating the conflict, it was equally necessary that others should direct it.

The excitement at Wittenberg soon reached an alarming height, and was intensified by the arrival of the Zwickan prophets, who claimed to be the first to have properly received the divine Spirit, and to have been called to carry on God’s work. They boasted of prophetic visions, dreams and direct communications with God. They also rejected infant baptism, saying that there was no such thing taught in the Scriptures. The people, losing their hold on the old, were ready to take up with anything that came with a plausible face. Even the most prudent were afraid to condemn anything that might have truth in it, and especially were they unwilling to reject anything that seemed to be taught in the Scripture. Melanchthon was greatly troubled and disturbed. It was not so much the visions of the Zwickan prophets that disturbed him as their teaching on baptism, and instead of settling the matter by an appeal to the Word of God, he referred it to the Elector Frederick, who advised him not to discuss the subject with them, but wait for Luther, for they quoted Saint Augustine to prove that nothing could be brought in favor of infant baptism except ecclesiastical custom.

Luther returned from Wartburg to Wittenberg in the early part of 1522, when efforts were made to get him to drop infant baptism and make the Reformation thorough. But while translating the Bible, at Wartburg, he had determined to retain whatever practices it did not forbid. At first he had no little struggle on the subject of infant baptism. On other subjects he had been forced, against his will, step by step, to abandon the fathers, the councils, and Catholic tradition, being driven to it by the Scriptures. But when he found no authority in the Bible for infant baptism he assumed a new attitude. At that point he had a fiery contest with himself as to the true key of Biblical interpretation, and he deliberately chose the negative turn. That is, he determined to abide by what the Scriptures did not forbid, instead of by what they enjoined. He saw at a glance where his rule of interpretation on other subjects must inevitably lead him on this point. And he dared not venture one step further in free thought, for fear of invoking a complete revolution. To take one step more was to let infant baptism go and the State church with it. But this was not the kind of a church Luther wanted, so he dismissed the whole matter as a very inopportune question. Thus it appears that he was willing to do as a positive duty to God whatever the Scriptures did not prohibit, as in the Supper, when asked, “What scripture have you for elevating the cup?” to which he indignantly replied, “What is there against it?” By the same answer he might have justified the offering of masses for the dead, auricular confession, purgatory, infallibility of popes, and any other unauthorized thing practiced by the Catholics, but which the Scriptures had not positively forbidden.

The imperial edict against Luther at the diet of Worms could scarcely have been stronger than it was, and yet it was wholly ineffective, for after Luther returned from his hiding place to Wittenberg he went on tours of numerous places, preaching to thousands, encouraging them in reformation, and never felt any ill effects of the ban placed upon him.

The papal court made determined efforts to bring to nought the efforts of Luther at the diet of Nurnberg, 1522-1523,but with no success, for they were compelled to say that “among a thousand men scarcely one could be found untainted by Lutheran teaching.”

It is generally agreed that the real separation into two opposite camps really began at the diet of Spires in 1524, although the real parting of the ways actually occurred after the Peasants’ War. When Germany emerged from the social revolution which perpetrated this war, it soon became apparent that the religious question was still unsettled and was dividing the country into two parties, and that both held as strongly as ever to their distinctive principles. The reason for the increased strain was the conduct of many of the Romanist princes in suppressing the rebellion; and on the other hand those princes who favored Luther’s teaching had a mutual understanding to defend one another against the attack upon their faith.

When the diet met at Spires in 1526 it was apparent that the national hostility to Rome had not abated. The grievances of Germany against the Roman court were again revived, and it was alleged, as it was in fact, that the chief causes of the Peasants’ War were the merciless exactions of clerical landholders. In the absence of Charles V, who was at war with France, Ferdinand of Austria presided over the diet. “He demanded the enforcement of the edict of Worms and a decree of the diet to forbid all innovations in worship and in doctrine,” but the diet was not inclined to adopt the suggestions. Luther’s followers were in the majority, and the delegates from the cities insisted that it was impossible to enforce the edict. The Committee of Princes proposed to settle the religious question by a compromise which was almost wholly favorable to Luther’s teaching. It was decided that “the marriage of priests, giving the cup to the laity, the use of the German as well as the Latin in the baptismal and communion services, should be recognized; that all private masses should be abolished; that the number of ecclesiastical holy days should be largely reduced; and that in the exposition of Holy Writ the rule ought to be that scripture should be interpreted by scripture”; and that eachState should so live as it hoped to answer for its conduct to God and the emperor.

This was interpreted by those States favorable to the Reformation that they had a legal right to organize territorial churches and to make such changes in public worship as would bring it into harmony with their beliefs. This gave new life to the Reformation. Almost the whole North Germany adopted the principles of the Reformation. Various political intrigues caused division and discredit among the reform party. When the diet again met at Spires in 1529, the Roman Catholic party was largely in the majority. The emperor at the outset declared:

By my imperial and absolute authority I abolish the clause in the ordinance of 1526 on which the Lutherans relied when they founded their territorial churches; it has been the cause of much ill counsel and misunderstanding.

The majority of the diet upheld the emperor’s decision, and the practical effect of the ordinance was to rescind that of 1526; re-establish Roman Catholic rule everywhere, and with it the right of the bishops to direct all preachers in their dioceses. This ordinance called forth the celebrated “Protest,” which was read before the diet April 19, 1529, when all concessions to the reformers had been refused. The legal position taken was that the unanimous decision of the diet in 1526 could not be rescinded by a majority. The “protesters” declared that they intended to abide by the decision of 1526, and not by that of 1529. They also declared their readiness to obey the emperor and the diet in all “dutiful and possible matters, but any order considered by them repugnant to God and his holy Word, to their soul’s salvation, and their good conscience,” they appealed to the emperor, to the free council, and to all impartial Christian Judges. The essential principles involved in the protest against this decree and in the arguments on which it was grounded were:

We protest publicly before God, our only Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and Savior, who, as the only Searcher of all our hearts, judgeth righteously, and we also protest before all the world, that both for ourselves and for our connections and subjects, we do not consent or agree with any resolutions or acts contained in the last decree of Spires above referred to, which, in the great concern of religion, are contrary to Godand to his holy word, injurious to our soul’s salvation, and also in direct opposition to the dictates of our conscience, as well as to the degree issued by an imperial diet at Spires; and we hereby solemnly declare that, from reasons already assigned, and from other weighty considerations, we regard all such resolutions or acts as null and void.

Thus in the presence of the diet spoke those courageous men. This is the origin of the name “Protestant.”

So critical was the situation that the Protestants immediately entered into an armed alliance for mutual defense. But as the only object now was to secure mutual defense in the right to have the same Gospel, the contest in progress was not one in which all wrongs were to be righted, but one in which they felt themselves justified in resistance only when the emperor attacked that which they all were convinced was of God.

An effort was made to perfect a union between the Protestants in Germany, but without success, and a divided Germany awaited the coming of the emperor. Charles V was now at the zenith of his power, and was determined to visit Germany and by his personal presence and influence end the religious difficulty which was distracting that portion of his vast dominions. He meant to use every persuasion possible, to make what compromises his conscience permitted, to effect a peaceful settlement. But if these failed he was determined to crush the Reformers by force.

He summoned the diet to meet at Augsburg on April 8, 1530, but it was not formally opened till June 20th. In his speech Charles V. announced that the assembly would be invited to discuss armament against the Turk, and that his majesty was anxious “by fair and gentle means” to end the religious differences which were distracting Germany. The Protestants were invited to give in writing their opinions and difficulties which compelled them to forsake the Church of Rome. It was resolved to take the religious question first. By June 24th the Lutherans were ready with the “statement of their grievances and opinions relating to the faith.” On the following day it was read before the diet by the Saxon Chancellor, Dr. Christian Bayer, in such a clear voice that it was heard not only by those assembled withinthe chamber, but by the crowd that thronged the court outside.

They were reviewed before the Protestant princes, and it being deemed desirable that they should be extended and enlarged, the work was assigned to Melanchthon; thus was completed the famous Confession of Augsburg, the standard of faith of all the Lutheran churches. When read before the diet it produced a profound impression. It was signed by four princes of the empire, by the imperial cities of Nuremberg and Reutlingen, and by the Elector of Saxony. Faber, Eckins and Cochlæus, who represented the Roman court at the diet, drew up a refutation which was publicly read before the diet, the emperor demanding the acquiescence of the Protestants; for he was now determined to insist on their submission, and to close the dispute. This they absolutely refused. The emperor again took counsel with the pope, and the result was an imperial edict commanding the princes, States and cities which had thrown off the papal yoke to return to their duty, on pain of incurring the displeasure of the emperor as a patron and defender of the Holy See.

The emperor published the decision on November 19th, and the Protestants had to arrange some common plan for facing the situation. They met, princes and delegates of cities, in the town of Smalkald, December 22d to 31st, when they formed a religious alliance, to which they invited England, Denmark and other States in which the Reformation had now dawned, to join them. In 1532 the peace at Nuremberg composed for a time the differences between the emperor and the reformers; the Lutherans were permitted the free exercise of their worship until a general council or another diet should finally determine the faith of “Continental Christendom.” In 1535 the pope, Paul III, proposed to summon a general council at Mantau. The Protestants of Germany, well satisfied that no advantages would result from such a synod, assembled at Smalkald in 1537, and published a solemn protest against the constitution of the council as partial and corrupt. To this they added a summary of their doctrine, drawn up by Luther, in order to present it to the council, if the pope should persist in callingit together. This summary, which was distinguished by the title of the “Articles of Smalkald,” is generally joined with the creeds and confessions of the Lutheran Church. The pope, however, died and the council at Mantau was postponed. New projects were raised, with the vain hope of setting at rest the spirit of religious freedom by which all Germany was now disturbed. The emperor summoned a conference at Worms in 1541, and Melanchthon disputed three days with Eckins on the points at issue. A diet followed at Ratisbon, another at Spires in 1542, and a third was held at Worms in 1545; the emperor vainly attempting to intimidate the Protestants, or to induce their leaders to consent to a general council to be summoned by the pope. But their resolution was fixed: they denied the pope’s right to call a general council; they regarded the proposal as a snare, and treated it with scorn.

The Council of Trent met in 1546, but the Protestant representatives appeared. It thundered its decrees, and the Protestant princes of Germany bade it defiance. The emperor, exasperated by their resistance and stimulated by the pope, assembled his forces, resolved to crush the spirit he could not otherwise subdue. All Germany was arming in defense of Protestantism or in submission to the emperor, and the storm darkened on every side. Such was the state of Germany when Luther died, February 18, 1546.

A religious war now broke out. The emperor was victorious and the Interim followed. This was an imperial edict, issued in 1547, guaranteeing certain concessions more specious than really important, to the Protestants, until the decisions of a general council should be given. It satisfied neither party, and the war soon raged anew. The emperor was defeated by the German confederate, under Maurice of Saxony, in 1552, and the pacification of Passau followed. At last, in 1555, the diet of Augsburg met, peace was restored, and the Protestant States of Germany secured their independence. It was decreed that the Protestants who embraced the Confession of Augsburg should be entirely exempt from the jurisdiction of the pope of Rome, and from the authority and interference of his bishops. They were free to enact laws for the regulation of their ownreligion in every point, whether of discipline or doctrine. Every subject of the German empire was allowed the right of private judgment, and might unite himself with the church he preferred; and those who should prosecute others under the pretext of religion were declared enemies of the common peace.

The “Religious Peace of Augsburg” has been claimed, and justly so, as a victory for religious liberty. The victory lay in this, that the first blow had been struck to free mankind from the fetters of Rome; that the first faltering step had been taken on the road to religious liberty; and the first is valuable not for what it is in itself, but for what it represents and for what comes after it. It is always the first step that counts.

The German Reformation was a vast stride from Rome, but it fell far short of a return to Jerusalem. About the best that can be said is that the Reformation was a change of masters; a voluntary one, no doubt, in those who had any choice; and in this sense an exercise, for the time, of their personal judgment. But as soon as the Augsburg Confession of Faith was written no one was at liberty to modify or change it, and those who did not conform to it were no less heretics than Luther had been when he failed to conform to the behests of Rome.

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