  SOME PARTICULARS WITH REGARD TO THE OUTWARD CIRCUMSTANCES AND INWARD LIFE OF LUTHER AT THE TIME OF THE CRISIS 1. Luther as Superior of eleven Augustinian HousesHis election as Rural Vicar, which took place at the convocation of the Order at Gotha (on April 29, 1515), had raised Luther to a position of great importance in his Congregation. He had, within a short time, risen from being Sub-Prior and Regent of the Wittenberg House of Studies to be the chief dignitary in the Congregation after Staupitz, the Vicar-General. The office was conferred on him, as was customary, for a period of three years, i.e. till May, 1518. Of the eleven monasteries which formed the District the two most important and influential were Erfurt and Wittenberg. The others were Dresden, Herzberg, Gotha, Langensalza, Nordhausen, Sangershausen, Magdeburg and Neustadt on the Orla, to which Eisleben was added, when, in July, 1515, Staupitz and Luther presided at the opening of a new monastery there. As Staupitz was frequently absent from the District, the demands made on the activity of the new Superior were all the greater. At this time too his professorial Bible studies and his efforts to clear up the confusion and difficulties existing in his mind must have kept him fully occupied. In addition to this there was the dissension within the Order itself on the question of observance and of the constitution, a dispute which required for its settlement a man filled with zeal for the spiritual welfare of the monasteries, and one thoroughly devoted to the exalted traditional aims of the Congregation. The mordant discourse on the “Little Saints” which the fiery Monk delivered on May 1 at the Gotha meeting What has been preserved of Luther’s correspondence with the priories and the monks of his District is unfortunately very meagre; the remarkable rapidity with which the Lutheran innovations spread among the Augustinians speaks, however, at a later date very plainly of the powerful influence which he had exerted on his brother monks during the years that he held the office of Rural Vicar. The first result of his influence was to bring into the ascendant a conception of the aims of the Order differing from that of the Observantines. Hand in hand with this went the recruiting of followers for his new theological ideas and for the so-called Augustinian or Pauline movement, of which the Wittenberg Faculty was the headquarters. Johann Lang prepared the ground for Luther at the Erfurt monastery, whither he went in 1515 and where he became Prior in 1516. The Augustinian, George Spenlein, Luther’s Wittenberg friend, to whom he addressed the curious, mystical letter on Christ’s righteousness (above, p. 88 f.), became, later on, a Lutheran preacher and parson at Arnstadt. Luther, during his Vicariate, had as Prior at Wittenberg his friend Wenceslaus Link, who was also Doctor and Professor in the Theological Faculty. He was, however, relieved of his office of Prior in 1516, left Wittenberg and went to Munich as preacher, whence he removed to Nuremberg at the beginning of 1517; in that town he became later a zealous promoter of the Reformation. The friendship which Luther had formed at Wittenberg with George Spalatin, the astute courtier in priest’s dress, was, however, of still greater importance to him in his work both within the Order and outside. Spalatin, who had received a humanist training under Marschalk and Mutian at Erfurt, came in 1511 to Wittenberg, where he entered the family of the Elector as tutor to his two nephews, and, in 1513, was promoted to the office of Court Chaplain and private secretary The letters which Luther wrote as Vicar he signed, as a rule, “Frater Martinus Luther,” though sometimes “Luder, Augustinensis,” usually with the addition “Vicarius,” and on one occasion “Vicarius Districtus,” which, needless to say, does not mean “the strict vicar” as it has been mistranslated, but refers to his office as Rural Vicar of the District. In these letters, chiefly in Latin, which Luther addressed to his monasteries, we meet with some pages containing beautiful and inspiring thoughts. There can be no question that he knew how to intervene with energy where abuses called for it, just as he also could speak words of consolation, encouragement and kindly admonition to those in fault. The letters also contain some exhortations, well-worded and full of piety, tending to the moral advancement of zealous members of the Order. The allusions to faith in Christ, our only help, and the absolute inadequacy of human effort, are, however, very frequent, though he does not here express his new theological opinions so definitely as he does in expounding St. Paul. To Johann Lang, who, as Prior of the Erfurt house, met with many difficulties from his subordinates, he writes comforting and consoling him: “Be strong and the Lord will be with you; call to mind that you are set up for a sign which shall be contradicted (Luke ii. 34), to the one, indeed, a good odour unto life, to another an odour of death (2 Cor. ii. 16).” “Be mild and friendly to the Prior of Nuremberg,” he says to him at a later date; “it is necessary to be so, just because he is harsh and unfriendly. One who is severe cannot get the better of a hard man, but he who is mild can, just as one devil cannot overcome another, but the finger of God must do this.” And again, “As regards the brother who has fallen away, take pity on him in the Lord. He has forsaken you, led astray by impiety, but you must not on that account be wanting in charity and turn your back upon him. Do not take the scandal too much to heart. We have been called, baptised and ordained in order to bear the burdens of others, for this reason the office clothes our own wretchedness with honour. We must, according to the proverb, ourselves cover our neighbour’s shame, as Christ was, still is, and for all eternity will be our covering, as it is written: ‘Thou art a priest for ever’ (Heb. v. 6). Therefore beware of desiring to be so clean that you will not allow yourself to be touched by what is unclean, or of refusing to put up with uncleanness, to cover it over and to wipe it away. You have been raised to a post of honour, but the task it involves is to bear dishonour. It is on the cross and on affronts that we must pride ourselves.” At the commencement of the autumn term in 1516, he complained that Lang was sending him too many brothers to study at Wittenberg, more in fact than he was able to provide for, At that time it was feared that Wittenberg might suffer from an attack of the plague which was raging in the vicinity, and which actually did break out there in October. Luther reassures the troubled Prior of Erfurt, who had besought him to depart: “It is possible that the plague may interfere with the lectures on the Epistle to the Galatians which I have just commenced. But, so far, it only snatches away two or three victims daily at most, and sometimes even fewer.... And whither should I flee? I trust the heavens will not fall even should brother Martin be When a member of the Teutonic Order sought for admission into the Augustinian house at Neustadt, Luther instructed the Prior there, Michael Dressel (Tornator) to observe very carefully the ecclesiastical and conventual regulations provided for such a case. “We must, it is true, work with God in the execution of this pious project,” he writes, “but we shall do this not by allowing the ideas of the individual, however pious his intentions may be, to decide the matter, but by carrying out the prescribed law, the regulations of our predecessors, and the decrees of the Fathers: whoever sets these aside need not hope to advance or find salvation, however good his will may be.” This Prior also had complained of the numerous contrarieties which he experienced from his subordinates, and that he was unable to enjoy any peace of soul. Luther says to him among other things: When Luther afterwards visited the monastery of this same Prior, on the occasion of an official visitation, he found the community estranged from its head. He did not at that time take any steps, but after a few weeks he suddenly removed Michael Dressel from his office. In confidence he informed Johann Lang, rather cryptically, that: “I did this because I hoped to rule there myself for the half-year.” The office of Rural Vicar required above all, that, when making his regular visitation of the religious houses, the Vicar should have a personal interview with each brother, hear what he had to say, and give him any spiritual direction of which he might stand in need. We learn the following of a visitation of this kind which Luther made in 1516: At the Gotha monastery the whole of the visitation occupied only one hour; at Langensalza two hours. He informs Lang: “In these places the Lord will work without us and direct the spiritual and temporal affairs in spite of the devil.” At Leitzkau the Augustinians possessed rights over the large fisheries and Luther was intimate with the local Cistercian Provost. When the Provost, George Maskov, Bodily infirmities were then pressing hard upon him in consequence of his many labours and spiritual trials, while much of his time was swallowed up by his lectures which were still in progress. 2. The Monk of Liberal Views and Independent ActionWith regard to his own life as a religious and his conception of his calling Luther was, at the time of the crisis, still far removed from the position which he took up later, though we find already in the Commentary on Romans views which eventually could not fail to place him in opposition to the religious state. What still bound him to the religious life was, above all, the ideal of humility, which his mystical ideas had developed. He also recognised fully the binding nature of his vows. According to him man cannot steep himself sufficiently in “To love is to hate and condemn oneself, yea even to wish evil to oneself.” “Our good is hidden so deeply that it is concealed under its opposite; thus life is hidden under death, real egotism under hatred of self, honour under shame, salvation under destruction, a kingdom under exile, heaven under hell, wisdom under foolishness, righteousness under sin, strength under weakness; indeed all our affirmation of any good is concealed under its negation in order that faith in God, Who is the negation of all, may remain supreme ... thus ‘our life is hidden with Christ in God’ (Col. iii. 3), i.e. in the negation of all that can be felt, possessed and apprehended.... That is the good which we must desire for ourselves,” he says to his brother monks, “then only are we good when we recognise the good God and our evil self.” He says elsewhere regarding vows: “All things are, it is true, free to us, but by means of vows we can offer them all up out of love; when this has once taken place, then they are necessary, not by their nature but on account of the vow which has been taken voluntarily. Then we must be careful to keep the vows with the same love with which we took them upon us, otherwise they are not kept at all.” In other respects Luther’s requirements not only fall far short of what is necessary, but even the ordinary monastic duties fare badly at his hands. If it is the interior word which is to guide the various actions, and if without the “spirit” they are nothing, indeed would be better left undone, then what place is left to the common observance of the monastic Rule and the numerous pious practices, prayers and acts of virtue to which a regular time and place are assigned? From the standpoint of his pseudo-mystical perfection he criticises with acerbity the recitation of the Office in Choir; also the “unreasonableness and superstition of pious founders of benefices,” who, as it were, “desired to purchase prayers” at certain fixed times. Founders of a monastery ought not to have prescribed the recitation of the Office in Choir on their behalf; by so doing they wished to secure their own salvation and well-being before God, instead of making their offerings purely for God’s sake. Nevertheless, again and again he speaks in lofty language of the value of the lowliness of the religious life. Now especially, he writes in the Commentary on Romans under the influence of his mystical “theologia crucis,” it is a good thing to be a religious, better than during the last two centuries. Why? Because now monks are no longer so highly esteemed as formerly, they are hated by the world and looked upon as fools, and are “persecuted by the bishops and clergy”; therefore the religious ought to rejoice in their cross and in their state of humiliation. Whoever takes vows imposes upon himself “a new law” out of love for God; he voluntarily renounces his own freedom in order to obey his superiors, who stand in God’s place. The vows are for him indissoluble bonds, but bonds of love. His complaints are very serious and certainly somewhat prejudiced, owing partly to his new theology, partly to his wrong perception of the facts. “Whoever keeps his vows with repugnance is behaving sacrilegiously.” On the same occasion he allows himself to be carried away from the subject of monasticism to the complaints regarding the too frequent Feasts and Fasts and the formalism pervading the whole life of the Church, to which we referred on page 227. Returning to the monks, he declares that he finds the interior man so greatly lacking in them that (without considering the many exceptions) they were the cause of the hostile attitude which the world assumed towards them. “Instead of rejoicing in shame, they are only monks in appearance; but I know that if they possessed love they would be the happiest of men, happier than the old hermits, because they are daily exposed to the cross and contempt. But to-day there is no class of men more presumptuous than they.” At the same time, however, he blames the religious who are too zealous for his liking, saying: “they are desirous of imitating the works of the Saints and are proud of their Founders and Fathers; but this is merely trumpery, because they wish to do the same great works themselves and yet neglect the spirit; they are like the Thomists and Scotists and the other sects, who defend the writings and words of their pet authors without cultivating the spirit, yea rather stifling it ... but they are hypocrites, as Saints they are not holy, as righteous they are anything but righteous, and, while ostensibly performing good works, they, in fact, do nothing.” And what sort of works do the religious perform? “In the same way that nowadays all workmen are as lazy as though they were asleep all day, so religious and priests sleep at their prayer from laziness, both spiritually and corporally; they do everything with the utmost indolence ... this fault is so widespread that there is hardly one who is free from it.” According to the testimony of the religious and theological literature of that day, the monastic Orders were better instructed in the meaning and importance of outward observances than Luther here assumes. Expounders of the Rules and ascetical writers speak an altogether different language. In the monasteries the distinction between the observances which were enjoined under pain of grievous sin and were, therefore, under no circumstances to be omitted, and such as were binding under the Rule but not under pain of sin, was well understood, and a third category was allowed, viz. such as were undertaken voluntarily, for instance, the construction of churches, or their adornment. It was also known, and that not only in religious houses—for the popular manuals of that day set it forth clearly—that for an action to be good the motive of perfect love, which Luther represented as indispensable, The formalism which it is true was widely prevalent in the religious life at that time was due not so much to a faulty conception of the religious state as to the inadequate fulfilment of its obligations and its ideals. This deterioration was not likely to be remedied by the application of the mistaken idea which Luther advocated, namely, that not the slightest trace of human weakness must be allowed to enter into the performance of good works, otherwise they became utterly worthless. His stipulation that everything must be done from the highest “spiritus internus,” could only be the result of his extravagant mysticism. The Rules of no Order, not even that of the Augustinians, went so far as this. Yet the Rule of Luther’s Augustinian Congregation did not seek a merely outward, Pharisaical carrying out of its regulations, but a life where the duties of the religious state were performed in accordance with the inward spirit of the Order. Luther’s master, the Augustinian Johann Paltz, emphasises this spirit very strongly in the instructions which he issued for the preservation of the true ideals of the Order. “Love,” he there says, “pays more heed to the inward than to the outward, but the spirit of the world mocks at what is inward and sets great value on what is outward.” He opposed the principles tending to formalism and the deterioration of Luther wished to introduce into the religious life the confused ideas begotten of his mysticism, at the expense of the observances which all were bound to fulfil. In this connection it should not be forgotten that Tauler, the teacher whom Luther so much admired, had shown that religious obedience if exercised in the right spirit was capable, by the observance of the Rule in small matters, of leading to greater perfection than could be arrived at by the performance of great works or by contemplation when these were self-chosen. Luther must have been acquainted with the instructive story which Tauler relates and which was often told in conventual houses, of the Child Jesus and the nun. The Divine Child appears to her during her meditation, but, on being suddenly called away to perform some allotted task and obeying the summons, as a reward she finds on her return the Divine Child wearing a still more benign and friendly countenance, and her visitor is also at pains to point out to her that the humble task for which she had left Him, pleases Him better than the meditation in which she had been engaged when He first appeared to her. Teachers of Tauler’s stamp inculcated on monks and laymen alike the highest esteem for small and insignificant tasks when performed in compliance with obedience to the duties of one’s state, whatever it might be. It was unfair to the religious life and at the same time to true Christian mysticism when Luther at a later date, after his estrangement from the Order, in emphasising the works which please God in the secular life, saw fit to speak as though this view had hitherto been unknown. Tauler had summed up the doctrine already well known in earlier ages in the beautiful words: “When the most trivial work is performed in real and simple obedience, such a work of an obedient man is nobler and better and more pleasing to God and is more profitable and meritorious than all the great works which he may do here below of his own choice.” Luther, during the time of his crisis, was not only a monk of dangerously wide views, but he was also inclined to take liberties in practice. There is a great dearth of information with regard to the way in which Luther practised at that time the virtues of the religious life, and from his own statements we do not learn much. He complains, in 1516, to his friend Leiffer, the Erfurt Augustinian: “I am sure and know from my own experience, from yours too, and, in fact, from the general experience of all whom I have seen troubled, that it is merely the false wisdom of our own ideas which is the origin and root of our disquietude. For our eye is evil, and, to speak only of myself, into what painful misery has it brought me and still continues to bring me.” Luther, whose capacity for work was enormous, flung himself into the employments which pressed upon him. He reserved little time for self-examination and for cultivating his spiritual life. In addition to his lectures, his In 1516 in a letter he tells his friend Lang of his engagements. “I really ought to have two secretaries or chancellors. I do hardly anything all day but write letters.... I am at the same time preacher to the monastery, have to preach in the refectory and am even expected to preach daily in the parish church. I am Regent of the Studium [i.e. of the younger monks] and Vicar, that is to say Prior eleven times over [i.e. of the eleven houses under his supervision]; I have to provide for the delivery of fish from the Leitzkau pond and to manage the litigation of the Herzberg fellows [the monks] at Torgau; I am lecturing on Paul, compiling an exposition of the Psalter and, as I said before, writing letters most of the time.” “It is seldom,” he adds, “that I have time for the recitation of the Divine Office or to celebrate [Mass], and then, too, I have my peculiar temptations from the flesh, the world and the devil.” Thus at the time he was constantly omitting Office in Choir, the Breviary and the celebration of Mass, or performing these sacred duties in the greatest haste in order to get back to his business. We must dwell a little on this confession, as it represents the only definite information we have with regard to his spiritual life. If, as he says, he had strong temptations to bewail, it should have been his first care to strengthen his soul by spiritual exercises and to implore God’s assistance in the Holy Mass and by diligence in Choir. Daily celebration of Mass had been earnestly recommended by teachers of the spiritual life to all priests, more particularly to those belonging to religious Orders. The punctual recitation of the canonical Hours, i.e. of the There was probably another reason for his omitting to celebrate Mass. He felt a repugnance for the Holy Sacrifice, perhaps on account of his frequent fits of anxiety. He says, at a later date, that he never took pleasure in saying Mass when a monk; this statement, however, cannot be taken to include the very earliest period of his priestly life, when the good effects of his novitiate were still apparent, for one reason because this would not agree with the enthusiasm of his letter of invitation to his first Mass. Religious services generally, he says in 1515-16 to the young monks, with a boldness which he takes little pains to conceal, “are in fact to-day more a hindrance than a help” to true piety. Speaking of the manner of their performance he says with manifest exaggeration, that it is such as to be no longer prayer. “We only insult God more when we recite them.... We acquire a false security of conscience as though we had really prayed, and that is a terrible danger!” With his mystical idealism he demands, on the other hand, what is contrary to reason and impossible of attainment. Prayer, according to him, if rightly performed, is the “most strenuous work and calls for the greatest energy”; “the spirit must be raised to God by the employment of constant violence”; this must be done “with fear and trembling,” because the biblical precept says: “work out your salvation with fear and trembling”; in short, it is, he declares, “the most difficult and most tedious affair” (“difficillima et tÆdiosissima”). He can describe graphically the lukewarmness and distractions which accompany the recitation of the Divine Office, and can do so from experience if we may trust what he says in 1535 of himself: “I have in my day spent much time in the recitation of the canonical Hours, and often the Psalm or Hour was ended before I knew whether I was at the beginning or in the middle of it.” The ironical description which he gives in 1516 of those who pray with a good intention runs as follows: He thinks he has found a way out of the dualism which formerly tormented him, and has become more independent. But what has he found to replace it? Merely fallacies, the inadequacy and inconsistency of which are hidden from him by his egotism and self-deception. “This good intention,” he says of the teaching of Scotus—which was perfectly correct, though liable to be misunderstood, as it certainly was by Luther—“is not so easy As the recitation of the Hours in the monastery was one of the duties of the day in the same way as the recitation of the Breviary and Office in Choir is to-day, i.e. an obligation which expired when the day was over, it is rather surprising to hear it said of Luther that, at a later period, “after the rise of the Evangel [i.e. actually during his conflict with the Church], he frequently shut himself up in his cell at the end of the week and recited, fasting, all the prayers he had omitted, until his head swam and he became for weeks incapable of working or hearing.” This strange tale about Luther reads rather differently in Melanchthon’s version which he reports having had from Luther himself: “At the commencement it was Luther’s custom on the days on which he was not obliged to preach to spend a whole day in repeating the Hours seven times over [i.e. for the whole week], getting up at 2 a.m. for that purpose. But then Amsdorf said to him: ‘If it is a sin to omit the Breviary, then you sinned when you omitted it. But if it is not a sin, then why torment yourself now?’ Then when his work increased still more he threw away the Breviary.” Yet Luther speaks ably enough in 1517 of the urgent necessity of spiritual exercises, more particularly meditation on the Scriptures, to which the recitation of the Office in Choir was an introduction: “As we are attacked by countless distractions from without, impeded by cares and engrossed by business, and as all this leads us away from purity of heart, only one remedy remains for us, viz. with great zeal to ‘exhort each other’ (Heb. iii. 13), rouse our slumbering spirit by the Word of God, reading the same continually, and hearing it as the Apostle exhorts.” Not long after he is, however, compelled to write: “I know right well that I do not live in accordance with my teaching.” The exertions which his feverish activity entailed avenged themselves on his health. He became so thin that one could count his ribs, as the saying is. His incessant inward anxieties also did their part in undermining his constitution. The outward appearance of the Monk was specially remarkable on account of the brilliancy of his deep-set eyes, to which Pollich, his professor at the University of Wittenberg, had already drawn attention (p. 86). The impression which this remarkable look, which always remained with him, made on others, was very varied. His subsequent friends and followers found in his eyes something grand and noble, something of the eagle, while, on the other hand, some remarks made by his opponents on the uncanny effect of his magic glance will be mentioned later. Anger intensified this look, and the strange power which Luther exerted over those who opposed him, drew many under the spell of his influence and worked upon them like a kind of suggestion. Many remarked with concern on the youthful Luther’s too great self-sufficiency. His then pupil Johann Oldecop describes him as “a man of sense,” but “proud by nature.” “He began to be still more haughty,” Oldecop observes, when speaking of the 3. Luther’s Ultra-Spiritualism and calls for Reform. Is Self-improvement possible? PenanceIt is clear from the above, that the passionate zeal for reform which inspired the Augustinian proceeded chiefly from his pseudo-mysticism. It would, however, be incorrect to attribute all this zeal simply to mysticism, but neither would it be in accordance with the facts of history were we to deny the connection between his repeated complaints and calls for reform and his spiritualistic ideas. It may be worth while to listen here to what the youthful Luther had to say of the reforming notions which already inspired him, for it opens up a wide horizon against which his psychology stands out in clear relief. Plans so far-reaching can only have been the result of the exaggerated and one-sided spiritualistic point of view, from which he regarded the perversity of the world at large. The following passages show what were the motives which urged him on. He declared it to be the duty of ecclesiastical superiors to show more indulgence to those who scorn their position and “the rights and privileges of the Church,” and this from the motive of mystical resignation; theologians ought to teach, in place of their traditional science, how we are “humbly to sigh after grace”; philosophy must for the future be silent because it is nothing but “the wisdom of Such a tone unmistakably pervades the projects of reform expressed not only in the Commentary on Romans, but also in his exposition of the Psalms; but a comparison of these two works shows the increased stress which Luther lays upon his own opinion in the later work, and the still greater inconsideration with which he rejects everything which clashes with his views, a fact which proves that Luther was progressing. In his Commentary on Romans he appeals formally to the “apostolic authority” of his Doctor’s degree, when giving vent to the most unheard-of vituperation of the highest powers, ecclesiastical and lay. He declares it to be his duty to reprove what he finds amiss in all, and almost at the same moment denounces the bishops who defend the rights of the Church as “Pharaonici, Sathanici, Behemotici”; so convinced is he that their supposed abuse of power entitles him to reprove them. The language in which the mystic unhesitatingly passes the severest possible judgments could scarcely be stronger. “We have fallen under a Jewish bondage ... our preachers have concealed from the people the truth regarding the right way of worshipping God, and the Apostles must needs come again to preach to us.” “When shall we at last listen to reason,” he cries, “Those fools” who do not even know what grace is.... “Who can bear with their blasphemous ideas?” “They do not know what sin or remission of sin is.” “Our theologians see sins only in works, and do not teach us how to change our minds and how to implore grace with humble sighing.... They make proud men, men who after due performance of their works look on themselves as righteous, and seek not to fight against their passions. That is the reason why Confession is of so little use in the Church and why backsliding occurs so frequently.” His hatred for theology leads him to make the following false and bitter charges: “The Scholastics teach that it is only necessary to fulfil the law outwardly, in deed, not with the heart; they do not even show how this is to be done, and thus the faithful are left in the impossibility of doing good, because they will never be able to fulfil the commandments unless they do so with the heart. These teachers do not even stretch out a finger towards the fulfilment of the law, I mean, they do not make its fulfilment depend even in the slightest on the heart, but merely on outward acts. Hence they become vain and proud.” “Luther does not appear to have been acquainted with the Schoolmen of the Middle Ages, more especially Thomas of Aquin. About this statement, which Denifle constantly repeats, there seems to me to be no doubt.” The Wittenberg Professor makes use of scathing reproofs such as had never before been heard. A good deal of his criticism was justifiable, and he was certainly not wrong in applying it judiciously in his own special domain to much that had hitherto been accepted as true. It is refreshing to those engaged in historical research to note how he cuts himself adrift from the legends of mediÆval hagiography, and how he writes on one occasion requesting Spalatin to copy out some particulars for him from Jerome’s book which he might use for a sermon on St. Bartholomew, “for the fables and lies of the ‘Catalogus’ and ‘Legenda aurea’ make But when Luther is dealing with the faults of the clergy, secular or regular, he looks at everything with a jaundiced eye as being saturated with arrogance, avarice and every vice, and seems to fancy all have become traitors to God’s cause. His love of exaggeration and his want of charity override everything, nor do these faults disappear with advancing years, but become still more marked. Never was there an eye more keen to detect the faults of others, never a tongue more ready to amplify them. And yet he, who does not scruple to support his fierce and passionate denunciations by the coarsest and most unfair generalisations, is himself the first to admit in his Commentary on Romans that: “There are fools who put the fault they have to find with a priest or religious to the account of all and then abuse them all with bitterness, forgetting that they themselves are full of imperfections.” He announces to his hearers in 1516 that, “to-day the clergy are enveloped in thick darkness”; “it troubles no one that all the vices prevail among the faithful, pride, impurity, avarice, quarrelling, anger, ingratitude” and every other vice; “these things you may do as much as you like so long as you respect the rights and liberties of the Church! but if you but touch these, then you are no longer a true son and friend of the Church.” The clergy, he continues, have received many possessions and liberties from the secular princes, but now they are quarrelling with their patrons and insisting on their exemptions: “Bad, godless men strut about with the gifts of their benefactors and think they are doing enough when they mutter a few prayers on their behalf,” “and yet Paul when describing the priest and his duties never even mentioned prayer[!]. But what he did mention, that no one complies with to-day.... They are priests only in appearance.... Where do you find one who carries out the intention of the Founders? Therefore they deserve that what they have received [from the princes] should be taken away from them again.” “As a matter of fact,” the mystic continues, quite manifestly conveying a hint to the secular authorities, “it were better, and assuredly safer, if the temporalities of the clergy were placed under the control of the worldly authorities ... then they would at least be obliged to stand in awe of others and would be more cautious in all matters.” “Up to now the laity have been too unlettered, and from ignorance have allowed themselves to be led, though full of complaints and bitterness against the clergy. But now they Strictures on the use of Indulgences occur, however, among his criticisms dating from this time. He attacks the “unlearned preachers” whose promises of Indulgences in return for donations for the building of churches, or similar pious objects, attract the people, though the latter are “altogether careless about fulfilling the duties of their calling.” He lays to the charge of the Pope and the Bishops not merely the real abuses in the preaching of Indulgences—as though they had been aware of them all—but also the making of Indulgences to depend on offerings; all the Bishops are, however, on the path to hell, and intent on seducing the people from the true service of God. He had, as we have seen, praised the worldly authorities at the expense of the ecclesiastical dignitaries, and now we find him introducing into his theological lectures a strange eulogy of Frederick, his Elector: “You, Prince Frederick, are yet to be guided by a good angel, therefore be on the watch. How greatly have you already been tried by injustice, and how rightly might you have taken up arms! You have suffered, you remained peaceable. I wonder, were you calling to mind your sins, and wishing thereby to confess them and do penance?” To this the mystic himself prudently replies: “I know not,” and adds: “Perhaps it was merely the fear of possibly getting the worse.” When, after his second course of lectures on the Psalms, Luther commenced the publishing of an amended edition he dedicated this, his first effort in biblical exegesis, to the Elector, with a preface in the form of a panegyric couched in the most fulsome language. The clever eulogist appears soon to have gained for himself great favour at Court. Barely two months after the letter spoken of, he requests of the sovereign, in the name of his priory, permission “for the monks to build a chamber outside the walls in the moat.” The intention was to erect a privy in the town moat for the use of the monastery, which was situated close to the walls. At the same time he begs that a black cappa (habit) which had been promised him in 1516 or 1517 might now be bestowed upon him, and refers to his dedication of the Psalter as perhaps deserving some such reward; he also asks the Prince to include in his gift a white cloak, which he might perchance have merited by the “Apostle,” i.e. by his Commentary on the Such little touches often reveal the spiritual atmosphere in which a man moves, and by which he is influenced, quite as well as more important matters. The frightful accusations which Luther brings forward in his Commentary on Romans against the state of morals in Rome belong to a somewhat earlier period; their tone is such as to lead one to fear the worst for the author’s submission to the highest authorities in the Church. The language St. Bernard employed, though he too reproved the immorality of the Papal residence, is quite different in tone from the arrogant words of the Wittenberg Doctor; in the former the most grievous reproofs are mitigated by the warm esteem the saint displays for authority as such, and by filial affection for the Church; in the latter there is nothing but bitterness. Such outbursts of spite confirm our previous observations concerning the results of Luther’s journey to Rome. His indignation with what he had seen or heard during his visit to Rome of the moral conditions under Alexander VI and Julius II became gradually more apparent. “At Rome,” he exclaims, “they no longer recognise any restrictions on their liberty, everything is set aside by means of dispensations. They have arrogated to themselves freedom of the flesh in every particular.” “Rome to-day has sunk back to its old heathen state,” where, as Paul says, licentiousness prevailed. “To-day Rome drags the whole world with her into the puddle; she far exceeds in unbridled luxury even ancient Rome, and stands in even greater need of apostolic messengers from God than she did at the beginning. My only hope is that these may come to her in friendly guise and not to execute stern justice.” “We may well be amazed at the thick darkness of these times.” “It matters nothing to the Church authorities though you be steeped in all the vices on the list drawn up by Paul (2 Tim. iii. 2 ff.); the sins may cry to Heaven for vengeance, but that does not matter, you are still looked Pride, everywhere, is, he thinks, the main cause of the corruption of the times. The humility of Christ is forgotten, and each one wants to exalt himself and amend others instead of himself. The worst kind of pride, he constantly declares, is that which exalts its own good works in the sight of God. This spiritual overbearing is the reason why the world is filled with the heresy of the Pelagians; the sovereign efficacy of grace is not recognised. In 1514 we hear Luther asserting, that of the three vices, sensuality, anger and pride, pride was the most difficult to overcome, a warning which his own experience had confirmed all too surely. “This vice,” he complains, “arises even from victory over the other vices.” We may ask a similar question with regard to the two other faults mentioned by him, anger and sensuality. Putting aside anger, the effects of which upon himself he frequently admits, we find that he also gives an answer concerning the third temptation. He writes in 1519 of the experiences of his earlier years with regard to sensuality: “It is a shameful temptation, I have had experience of it. You yourselves are, I fancy, not ignorant of it. Oh, I know it well, when the devil comes and tempts us and excites the flesh. Therefore let a man consider well and prove himself whether he is able to live in chastity, for when one is on heat, I know well what it is, and when temptation then comes upon a man he is already blind,” etc. In his later years he also refers to the “very numerous temptations” which he underwent at the monastery, and of which he complained to his confessor; the more he fought against them, the stronger they became. What he says of falling into sin is very instructive from the psychological point of view. It serves as a stepping-stone to his views on penance. “Even to-day,” he writes in his Commentary on Romans where he deals with hardened sinners, “God allows men to be tempted by the devil, the world and the flesh until they are in despair, choosing thus to humble His elect and lead them to put their trust in Him alone without presuming upon their own will and works. Yet He often, especially in our day, incites the devil to plunge His elect into dreadful sins beneath which they languish, or at least allows the devil ever to hinder their good resolutions, making them do the contrary of what they wish to do, so that it becomes plain to them that it is not they who will or perform what is good. And yet by means of all this God leads them against their expectations [to His grace] and sets them free while they are sighing because they desire and do so much that is evil, and are unable to desire and do the good they would. Yea, it is thus that God manifests His strength and that His name is magnified over the whole earth.” We are more inclined to apply to him a remarkable description, which he gives in another passage of the Commentary on Romans, of the devil’s action on a man whom he wishes to lead astray. Man’s fall under the bondage of sin and his resuscitation by grace engage his attention often and with a singular intensity, but generally speaking he makes no mention of contrition or satisfaction, but only of a covering over with the righteousness of Christ. The description in question, given in eloquent language, is based on the well-known passage in Romans iii. 28: “We account a man to be justified by faith without the works of the law.” This is the verse in which Luther later, in his translation, interpolated the word “alone” (“by faith alone”), but on which he does not as yet bestow any particular attention. On the contrary, he commences his exposition of this text with the He goes on to mention four classes of men who are led away by the devil in their esteem and practice of works. The fourth and last class might possibly include himself. “The fourth class consists of those who, at the instigation of the devil, desire to be free from any sin, pure and holy. But as they, nevertheless, feel that they commit sin and that all they do is tainted with evil, the devil terrifies them to such an extent with fear of the judgments of God and scruples of conscience that they almost despair. He is acquainted with each one’s disposition and tempts him accordingly. As they are zealous in the pursuit of righteousness the devil is unable to turn them aside from it so readily. Therefore he sets himself to fill them with enthusiasm, so that they wish to free themselves too speedily from all trace of concupiscence. This they are unable to do, and consequently he succeeds in making them sad, downcast and faint-hearted, yea, even in causing them unendurable anxiety of conscience and despair.” When prescribing the remedy, he begins to use the first person plural. “Therefore there is nothing for us to do but to make the best of things and to remain in sin. We must sigh to be set free, hoping in God’s mercy. When a man desires to be cured he may, if in too great a hurry, have a worse relapse. His cure can only take place slowly and many weaknesses must be borne with during convalescence. It is enough that sin be displeasing, though it cannot be altogether expelled. For Christ bears everything, if only it is displeasing to us; His are the sins not ours, and, here below, His righteousness is our property.” We may take that portion of the description where the first person is used as an account of his own state. Here he is describing his own practice. This passage, which in itself admits of a good interpretation and might be made use of by a Catholic ascetic, must be read in connection with Luther’s doctrine that concupiscence is sin. Looking at it in this light, the sense in which he understands displeasure with sin becomes clear, also why, in view of the ineradicable nature of concupiscence, he is willing to console himself Luther is here describing the remedy which he himself applies in place of real penance, wholesome contrition and compunction. It is to replace all the good resolutions which strengthen and fortify the will, and all penitential works done in satisfaction for the guilt of sin, and this remedy he begins to recommend to others. His contempt for good works, for zeal in the religious life and for any efforts at overcoming self encourage him in these views. His new ideas as to man’s inability to do anything that is good, as to his want of free will to fight against concupiscence and the sovereign efficacy of grace and absolute predestination, all incline him to the easy road of imputation; finally, he caps his system by persuading himself that only by his new discoveries, which, moreover, are borne out by St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, can Christ receive the honour which is His due and His Gospel come into its rights. Such was Luther’s train of thought. The characteristic position which Luther assumed in his early days with regard to penance and the motive of fear, must be more closely examined in order to complete the above account. The Monk frankly admits, not once but often, that inward contrition for sin was something foreign, almost unknown, to him. The statements he makes concerning his confessions weigh heavily in the scale when we come to consider the question of his spiritual life. In a passage of his Commentary on the Psalms where he would in the ordinary course have been obliged to speak of contrition He admits in his Commentary on Romans that he had struggled with himself (“ita mecum pugnavi”) because he could not believe that contrition and confession really cleansed him from sin, as he had always been conscious of sin, viz. concupiscence, still continuing within him. In 1518 he writes: because the evil inclination to sin always remains in man “there are none, or at least very few, in the whole world who have perfect contrition, and I certainly admit this in my own case.” According to the statements he made in later years concerning his fruitless attempts to awaken contrition within himself, and concerning his relations with his confessor, he must have taken the wrong road at an early period in his religious life; the more earnestly he sought to conceive contrition, he says, the greater was his trouble of mind and remorse of conscience. “I was unable to accept (‘non poteram admittere’) the absolutions and consolations of my confessors, for I thought to myself, who knows whether I can put faith in these words of comfort?” At a later date he opposed the Catholic doctrine of contrition on account of his aversion to the motive of fear of the judgments of God. The Church had always taught that perfect contrition was that which proceeded from a real love of God, but that contrition from a holy fear of God was salutary because it involved a turning away from sin and a beginning of love. Luther, however, at the very commencement of his new teaching, was at pains to exclude fear as an inspiring motive. He was determined to weed it out of the religious life as unworthy of the service of God, quite unmindful of the fact that it was expressly recommended by reason, by the Fathers of the Church and by the very words of the Bible. He says, for instance, in 1518 in his sermon on the Ten Commandments, that in contrition for sin no place is to be assigned to fear. The contrition which must be aroused is, he says, to proceed from love alone, because that which is based on fear is always outward, hypocritical and not lasting. In an earlier sermon he mentions the two kinds of contrition, namely, that which, according to him, is the only true one, “out of love of justice and of punishment,” or which, in other words, hates sin from the love of God, and that which springs from fear, which he says is artificial and not real, and to which he gives the nickname “gallows grief.” The latter, he says, does not make us abhor sin, but merely the punishment of sin, and were there no punishment for sin it would at once cease. He begins his tract on Penance in 1518 with the assertion, that contrition from the motive of fear makes a man a still greater sinner, because it does not detach the will from sin, and because the will would return to sin so soon as there was no punishment to be feared. As he had banished contrition from a motive of fear, he should have laid all the more stress upon that which springs from love. But here he was met by a difficulty, namely, that concupiscence still exists in man and draws him towards sin, or rather, according to Luther’s ideas, of itself makes him a real sinner, so that no actual turning away from sin can take place in the heart. What then was to be done? “You must,” he says, “cast yourself by prayer into God’s hands so that He may account your contrition as real and true.” “Christ will supply from His own If he looked upon penance and confession in this light, then, indeed, they were not of a nature to satisfy and tranquilise him. We shall not be wrong if we assume that the frequent states of terror—of which the cause lay in his temperament rather than in his will—had their part in his aversion to fear and to the idea of God’s judgment. He felt himself impelled to escape at any cost from their dominion. Other passages which Luther wrote at a later date on fear and contrition read rather differently and seem to advocate fear as a motive. We see thereby how hard he found it to cut himself adrift from the natural and correct view taught by theology. He declares, for instance, later, with great emphasis, that “true penance begins with the fear and the judgment of God.” He betrays in this, as in other points, his confusion and inconsequence. He is utterly unfair to the Church and to her theology when he falsely asserts that she had admitted contrition from fear alone, i.e. to the utter exclusion of love; every kind of fear, he says maliciously, was recognised as sufficient for receiving absolution, even that “gallows grief” which abhorred sin solely from fear of punishment and with the intention of returning to it if no punishment existed (timor serviliter servilis, as it was subsequently termed by theologians). This reproach did not strike home to the theologians or to the Church. Theological and moral treatises there were in plenty, which, like the Fathers of the Church and the mediÆval Doctors, taught in express terms the advantage of perfect contrition and exhorted the faithful to it. Indeed, most of the popular manuals merely taught that sin must be repented of for God’s sake, from love of God, without even mentioning simple attrition. It was not only generally recognised and taken for granted that the lower, imperfect contrition, i.e. that which arises from fear, in order to be a means of forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance, must include a firm resolution of not returning to sin, but it was set down as requisite that this so-called “servile” fear (timor servilis) must be coupled with a commencement of love of God, or else be of such a nature as to lead up to it. It is sufficient to open the works in circulation in the theological schools at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries to see at what length and with what care these questions were discussed. It cannot, however, be denied that some few of the later scholastic theologians—among them, significantly enough, Johann Paltz, preceptor in the Augustinian monastery at Erfurt at the time Luther entered—did not express themselves clearly, and that some other theologians defended views which were not correct. But whether such theologians exerted a positive or negative influence on Luther we do not know. One thing is certain, however, namely, that he was influenced chiefly by his own desire to free himself from what he looked upon as an oppressive yoke and that his self-sufficiency and ignorance speedily led him to fancy it his duty to confront the theology of previous ages with his epoch-making discovery regarding the doctrine of fear and penance. This process is confirmed by a letter of his addressed to Staupitz, his esteemed Superior, at a time when the commotion “The word which I hated most in all the Scriptures was the word penance. Nevertheless [when performing penance and going to confession], I played the hypocrite bravely before God, attempting to wring out of myself an imaginary and artificial love.” He also grumbles here about the “works of penance and the insipid satisfactions and the wearisome confession”; such a prominent position ought not to be assigned to them; the ordinary instructions and the modus confitendi contained nothing but the most oppressive tyranny of conscience. He had always felt this, and in his trouble it had been to him like a ray from heaven when Staupitz once told him: “True penance is that only which begins with the love of God and of justice, and what the instructions represent as the last and crown of all is rather the commencement and the starting-point of penance, namely, love.” This precious truth he had, on examination, found to be absolutely confirmed by Holy Scripture (“s. scripturÆ verba undique mihi colludebant”)—Luther had a curious knack of finding in Scripture everything he wanted—even the Greek term for penance, metanoia, led up to the same conclusion, whereas the Latin “poenitentiam agere” implied effort and was therefore misleading. Thus Staupitz’s words had turned the bitter taste of the word penance into sweetness for him. “God’s commandments always become sweet to us when we do not merely content ourselves with reading them in books; we must learn to understand them in the wounds of our Sweetest Saviour.” The Monk was well aware that such mystical utterances were sure of finding a welcome echo with the influential Vicar of the whole Augustinian Congregation, himself a mystic. He sends him with the same letter his long Latin defence of his Indulgence theses (Resolutiones), which Staupitz was to forward to the Pope. He at the same time expresses some of his thoughts concerning the connection between his doctrine of penance and the controversy on Indulgences which had just commenced, probably hoping that Staupitz would also acquaint Rome with them. These we cannot pass over without remark in concluding our consideration of Luther’s doctrine on penance. The Indulgence-preachers, he says, must be withstood because they are overturning the whole system of penance; not only do they set up penitential works and satisfaction as the principal thing, but they extol them, solely with a view to inducing the faithful to secure the remission Staupitz, a shortsighted man, was not to be convinced that, by Luther’s teaching and the commotion which it was arousing, the very existence of the Augustinian Congregation was endangered and the Catholic Church herself menaced in her dogma and discipline. Instead of watching over the communities committed to his care he spent his days in travelling from place to place, a welcome and witty guest at the tables of great men, devoting his spare time to writing pious and learned books. The sad instances of disobedience, dissension and want of discipline which became more and more prevalent in his monasteries did not induce him to lay a restraining hand upon them. Too many exemptions from regular observance and the common life had already been permitted in the Congregation in the past, and of this the effect was highly pernicious. On one occasion, when referring to his administration, Staupitz told Luther, that at first he had sought to carry out his plans for the good of the Order, later he had followed A later hand has added against Lang’s name in the Register of the University of Erfurt the words “Hussita apostata,” At that period Church discipline in Germany was already ruined. The man who was responsible for the downfall reveals a mental state capable of going to any extreme when in 1518 he writes to his fatherly friend Staupitz in almost fanatical language: “Let Christ see to it whether the words I have hitherto spoken are mine or His. Without His permission no Pope or Prince can give a decision (Cp. Prov. xxi. 1).... I have no temporal possessions to lose, I have only my weak body, tried by many labours. Should they desire to take my life by treachery or violence they will but shorten my existence by a few hours. I am content with my sweetest Saviour and Redeemer, our Lord Jesus Christ. Him I will praise as long as life lasts (Ps. ciii. 33). Should others refuse to sing with me, what matters it? Let them howl alone if it pleases them. May our Lord Jesus Christ ever preserve you, my sweetest father.” The ultra-spiritualism which had cast its spell over Luther was compounded, as we may see from what has gone before, of pseudo-mysticism, bad theology, a distaste for practical works of piety, a tendency to polemics and a misguided zeal for reform, not to speak of other elements. This it was which animated him during the years which preceded his public apostasy. On the other hand, in the subsequent struggle against the Church it is rather less apparent, being, to a certain extent, kept within bounds by the conflict he was obliged to wage in his own camp against dangerous fanatics such as MÜnzer and Carlstadt. Nevertheless, his spirit had not been entirely tamed, and, when occasion arose, as we shall see later, was still capable of all its former violence. The Monk, at the time he was at work on the Epistle to the Romans, by dint of studying the Bible and Tauler, had, as he thought, attained to the mystical light of a higher knowledge, and begins accordingly to speak of hearing the inward voice. He tries to persuade himself that he hears this voice speaking in his soul; he looks upon it as so imperative that he is obliged, so he says, to do what it commands, Even before much was known of the data furnished by the Commentary on Romans regarding Luther’s development, Fr. Loofs, on the strength of the fragments which Denifle had made public, ventured to predict that, on the publication of the whole work, it would be seen, “that Luther was at that time following a road which might justly be described as a peculiar form of quietistic mysticism.” Johann Adam MÖhler says of Luther’s public work as a teacher: “In his theological views he showed himself a one-sided mystic.” We find in Luther, from the beginning of his career, together with his rather gloomy ultra-spiritualism, another characteristic embracing a number of heterogeneous qualities, and which we can only describe as grotesque. Side by side with his love of extremes, we find an ultra-conservative regard for the text of Holy Scripture as he understood it, no matter how allegorical his pet interpretation might be. Again, the pious mysticism of his language scarcely agrees with the practical disregard he manifested for his profession. To this must be added, on the one hand, his tendency to spring from one subject to another, and the restlessness which permeates his theological statements, and on the other, his ponderous Scholasticism. Again we have the digressions in which he declaims on public events, and, besides, his incorrect and uncharitable criticisms; here he displays his utter want of consideration, his ignorance of the world and finally a tempestuous passion for freedom in all things, which renders him altogether callous to the vindication of their rights by others and makes him sigh over the countless “fetters of men.” With an unbounded confidence in himself and all too well aware of the seduction exercised by his splendid talents, he yet does not scruple to warn others with the utmost He has already discovered a new way of salvation which is to tranquilise all, and yet he will be counted, not among those who feel sure of their salvation, but among the pious who are anxious and troubled about their state of grace, “who are still in fear lest they fall into wickedness, and, therefore, through fear, become more and more deeply steeped in humility in doing which they render God gracious to them.” The last words show that the process of development is not yet ended. What we have considered above was merely the first of the two stages which he traversed before finally arriving at the conception of his chief doctrine. |
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