THE DIVINE MISSION AND ITS MANIFESTATIONS 1. Growth of Luther’s Idea of his Divine MissionWhereas the most zealous of Luther’s earliest pupils and followers outvied one another in depicting their master as the messenger of God, who had come before the world equipped with revelations from on high, the tendency of later Protestantism has been, more and more, to reduce Luther, so to speak, to a merely natural level, and to represent him as a hero indeed, but as one inspired by merely human motives. An earlier generation exalted him to mystical regions, and, being nearer him in point of time and therefore knowing him better, grasped the fact that he was dominated by a certain supernaturalism. Many later and more recent writers, on the other hand, have preferred to square their conception of his personality with their own liberal views on religion. They hail Luther as the champion of free thought and therefore as the founder of modern intellectual life. What he discovered in his struggles with himself by reflection and pious meditation, that, they say, he bequeathed to posterity without insisting upon the immutability of his ideas or claiming for them any infallibility. His only permanent work, his real legacy to posterity, was a negative one, viz. the breach with Popery, which he consummated, thanks to his extraordinary powers. This is, however, from the religious standpoint, to attenuate Luther’s figure as it appears in history, notwithstanding the tribute paid to his talents. If he is not the “messenger of God,” whose doctrines, inspired from on high, the world was bound to accept, then he ceases to be Luther, for it was from his supernatural estimate of himself that he drew all his strength and defiance. It has been pointed out above, how Luther gradually reached the conviction that he had received his doctrine by a special revelation, with the Divine mission to communicate it to the world and to reform the Church (vol. ii., p. 92 f.). The conviction, that, as he declares, “the Holy Ghost had revealed the Scriptures” to him culminated in that personal assurance of salvation which was suddenly vouchsafed to him in the Tower. It will repay us to examine more closely the nature of this idea, and its manifestations, now that we have the mature man before us. The founder of the new Church has reached a period when he no longer scruples to speak of the “revelations” which had been made to him, and which he is compelled to proclaim. “By His Grace,” he says, “God has revealed this doctrine to me.” It is because he has received the Word of God direct from on high that he is so firm. “God’s Word,” he cries, “is above everything to me; I have the Divine Majesty on my side, therefore I care not in the least though a thousand Augustines, or a thousand Harry-Churches [Henry VIII. of England was then still a Catholic] should be against me; I am quite certain that the true Church holds fast with me to God’s Word, and leaves it to the Harry-Churches to depend on the words of men.” There are many passages in which he merely claims to have been enlightened in his ruminations and labours and thus led to embrace the real, saving truth; less frequently do we hear of any actual, sudden inspiration from above. Where he does claim this most distinctly is in the matter of the discovery of his chief doctrine, viz. assurance of salvation by justifying faith, vouchsafed to him in the Tower of the Wittenberg monastery. The fact that his mode of expression varies may be explained not merely by his own involuntary wavering, but by the very difficulty of imparting his favourite doctrine to others. His frame of mind, outward circumstances and the character of his hearers or readers were the cause of his choice of words. With his friends, for instance, more particularly the younger ones, and likewise in his sermons at Wittenberg, he was fond of laying stress on what he had once said to the lawyers when they molested him with Canon Law: “They shall respect our teaching, which is the Word of God spoken by the Holy Ghost through our lips.” Yet the idea of an assurance born of God lies at the bottom of all his statements. He worked himself into this belief until it became part of his nature. “I am certain and am determined to feel so.” Expressions such as this are not seldom to be met with in Luther’s letters and writings. An almost appalling strength of will lurks behind such assurances. Indeed, what impels him seems to savour more of self-suggestion than of inward experience. To the objections brought forward by his adversaries he frequently enough merely opposes his “certainty”; behind this he endeavours to conceal the defects of his proofs from Scripture, and his inability to reply to the reasons urged against him. His determination to find conviction constitutes one of Luther’s salient psychological characteristics; of the Titanic strength at his disposal he made proof first and foremost in his own case. Luther also succeeded in inducing in himself a pseudo-mystic mood in which he fancied himself acting in everything conformably with a Divine mission, everywhere specially guided and protected as beseemed a messenger of God. For instance, he says that he wrote the pamphlet against the seditious peasants in obedience to a Divine command; “therefore my little book is right and will always be so, though all the world should be incensed at it.” “It is the Lord Who has done this,” he had declared of the Peasant Rising when he recognised in it elements favourable to his cause; “It is the Lord Who has done this and Who conceals these menaces and dangers from the eyes of the Princes, and will even bring it about Himself by means of their blindness and violence.” That the Princes are Later on he was no less sure that he could foresee in the Spirit the coming outbreak of a religious war in Germany; only the prayers which he—who had the Divine interests so much at heart—offered, could avail to stave off the war; at least the delay was mainly the result of this prayer: “I am assured that God really hearkens to my prayer, and I know that so long as I live there will be no war in Germany.” Never does he tire of declaring that the misfortunes and deaths which his foes have to deplore are the result of the intervention of heaven on behalf of his cause. In February, 1520, he speaks of the intimation he has received of a great storm impending, were God not to place some hindrance in the way of Satan. “I have seen Satan’s cunning plans for my destruction and that of many others. Doubtless the Divine Word can never be administered without confusion, tumult and danger. It is a word of boundless majesty, it works great things and is wonderful on high.” This was to be his only guide in his undertaking. He was compelled, so he declared on the same occasion, “to leave the whole matter to God, to resign himself to His guidance and to look on while wind and waves make the ship their plaything.” He frequently repeats later that his professorship at the University had been bestowed upon him by a Divine dispensation and against his will; whereas others were Everything had befallen him in accordance with God’s design. It was in accordance therewith, nay, “at the command of God,” that he had become a monk, so at least he says later. This, too, was his reason for giving up the office in choir and the recitation of the Breviary. “Our Lord God dragged me by force from the canonical hours, anno 1520.” His first encounter with Dr. Eck took place, so he was persuaded, “at God’s behest.” The success of his efforts to bring about a great falling away from the Catholic Church he regarded as a clear Divine confirmation of his mission, so that “no higher proof or miracle was needed.” It is evident from these and other like statements how greatly his fame, the increase of his followers and his unexpected success engrossed and intoxicated him. In judging of him we must not under-estimate the effect of the din of applause in encouraging him in his self-suggestion. The cheers of so great a crowd, as Erasmus remarked in a letter to Melanchthon, might well have turned the head even of the humblest man. What anchor could have held the bark exposed to such a storm? Outbursts such as the following, to which Luther gave vent under the influence of the deafening ovation, were only to be expected of such a man as he, when he had once cut himself adrift from the Church: “God has now given judgment ... and, contrary to the expectation of the whole world, has brought things to such a pass.... The position of the Pope grows daily worse, that we may extol the work of God herein.” His mere success was not the only Divine witness in his favour; Luther was also of opinion that owing to God’s notable working, signs and wonders had taken place in plenty in confirmation of the new teaching; such Divine wonders, however, must not be “thrown to the winds.” In short, “the first-fruits of the Grace of God,” he says, have come upon us; in these he was unwilling that later teachers, who differed from him, should be allowed to participate. Was not the guidance of Christ also plainly visible in the fact that he, the proclaimer of His Word, had been delivered from so many ambushes on the part of the enemies who lay in wait for him? Such a thought lay at the root of his words to his pupil Mathesius: There was no doubt that poison had frequently been administered to him, but “an important personage had been heard to say, that none had any effect on him.” On one occasion, however, when an attempt had been made to poison him, He “Who said, ‘If they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them,’ blessed him, and preserved him then and afterwards from all mischief.” Among the characteristics most highly extolled by his earliest followers as exemplifying his mission must be instanced, first, his inflexible courage, amounting frequently to foolhardiness, in the accomplishment of his set task, viz. the establishing of the Evangel and the destruction of Popery; secondly, his extraordinary capacity for work and the perseverance of which he gave such signal proof in his literary undertakings; thirdly, his entire disregard for temporal advantages, which he himself held up as an example to those of the evangelical preachers whose worldliness had become a reproach to the Lutheran cause. Very strange and remarkable is the connection between Luther’s mysticism and the simple and homely view he took of life; the pleasure with which he welcomed everything good which came in his way—so far as it was free from any trace of Popery—the kindly, practical turn of his manner of thinking and acting when among his own people, and that love for humour and good cheer which so strikingly contrasts with the puritanical behaviour of his opponents, the Anabaptists and fanatics. To reconcile his mysticism with habits at first blush so divergent would present quite a problem in itself were we not to take into account the fact, that homeliness and humour had been his from the very beginning, whereas his mysticism was a later growth, always to some extent alien to his character. His mysticism he carefully confined to what related to his supposed Divine mission, though at times he does indeed seem to extend indefinitely the range of this mission. Yet, when the duties of his office had cost him pain or tried his temper, he was ever glad to return to the realities of life, and to seek relief in social intercourse or in his family circle. When it was a question of the working of miracles by the heaven-sent messenger, he was of too practical a turn of mind to appeal to anything but the ostensible tokens of the Divine favour worked around him and on his behalf in proof of the truth of the new Evangel. He carefully avoided attributing any miracles to his own powers, even when assisted by Divine grace, though, occasionally, he seems to imply that, were the need to arise, he might well work wonders by the power of God, were he only to ask it of Him. With the question of miracles and predictions While on the one hand Luther’s views of miracles and prophecies witness to an error which was not without effect on his persuasion of his Divine mission, on the other his pseudo-mystic notion of his special calling led him superstitiously to see in chance events of history either the extraordinary confirmation of his mission or the celestial condemnation of Popery. We know that Luther not only shared the superstitions of his contemporaries, but also defended them with all the weight of his great name and literary talents. Another element which loomed large in his persuasion that he was a prophet was his so-called “temptations,” i.e. the mental troubles, which, so he thought, were caused by the devil and which, coinciding as they often did with other sufferings, were sometimes the cause of long fits of misery and dejection. These temptations in their most extreme form Luther compared with the death-agony. His extraordinary experiences, of which he never understood the pathological cause, were regarded by him as God’s own testimony to his election. His conviction was that, by imposing on him these pangs of hell, God was cleansing him for the grand task assigned to him, even as He had done with other favoured souls in the past. When plunged in the abyss of such sufferings he felt like St. Paul, the Apostle of the Gentiles, who likewise was buffeted by Satan (vol. i., p. 381 f.), and whom he would fain have emulated in his “revelations” of the Divine mysteries. Only in the sequel, however, will it be possible to describe Luther’s pathology for the benefit of those to whom it may be of interest. All his troubles, whether due to doubt and sadness or to the fury of foes stirred up by Satan against him, he utilised, so he tells us, as an incentive to immerse himself ever more and more in the study of Holy Scripture, to cultivate the understanding bestowed upon him, and to seek its practical applications. “My theology was not all learnt in a day; I was obliged to explore deeper and deeper to acquire it. My temptations helped me, for it is impossible to understand Holy Scripture without experience and temptations. This is what the fanatics and unruly spirits lack, viz. that capital gainsayer the devil, who alone can teach a man this. St. Paul had a devil, who beat him with his fists and drove him by the way of temptation diligently to study Holy Scripture. I have had the Pope, the Universities and all the scholars, and, behind them all, the devil, hanging round my neck: they drove me to the Bible and made me read it until at length I reached the right understanding of it. Unless we have such a devil, we remain mere speculative theologians, for whose precious imaginings the world is not much better.” The above passage, moreover, agrees with many similar statements of his, inasmuch as, far from ascribing his doctrine to any actual revelation, he makes its discovery to result from effort on his part, under the guidance of a higher illumination. Luther, less than any other, could scarcely Periodic Upheaval of Luther’s Idea of his Divine Mission.Luther’s consciousness of his Divine mission found expression with varying degrees of intensity at different periods of his life. At certain junctures, notably when historic events were impending, it was apt to burst forth, producing in him effects of a character almost terrifying. Such was the case, for instance, in the days which immediately preceded and followed the proclamation of the Bull of Excommunication. At that time it seemed as though every spirit of revolt had entered into him to use him as a tool for defying the authority of the Church. Such was the depth of his persuasion, that he, the excommunicate, was carried away to proclaim his unassailable prophetic rights in tones of the utmost conviction. Towards the end of his stay at the Wartburg and during the first period of his struggle with the Anabaptists at Wittenberg, we again hear him insisting on his own exalted mission; owing, however, to the mystic illumination of which the fanatics boasted, his claims are now based, not so much on mystical considerations, as on the “outward Word,” whose authentic representative he had, by his works, proved himself to be. The loneliness and gloom of the Wartburg and his “diabolical” experiences there doubtless helped to convince him yet more of the reality of his mission. The ensuing struggle with those of the innovators who differed from him and even threatened to oust him, acted as a further stimulus and aroused his powers of resistance to the utmost. Nor must we forget the threatening attitude of the Imperial authorities at Nuremberg, whom he was resolved to oppose with the greatest determination; only by impressing on his followers that he was something more than human Triumphantly he cries: “The Lord has already begun to mock at Satan and his slaves. Satan is in truth vanquished, and the Pope, too, with all his abominations! Now our only concern is the soap-bubble which has swelled to such alarming dimensions [the Nuremberg menace]. We believe in Christ, the Son of God, believe in His dominion over life and death. Whom then shall we fear? The first-fruits of victory have already fallen to us; we rejoice at the overthrow of the Papal tyranny, whereas formerly Kings and Princes were content to submit to its oppression; how much easier will it be to vanquish and despise the Princes themselves!” “If Christ assures us,” he continues in this same letter, one of the first dispatched after his “Patmos” at the Wartburg, “that the Father has placed all things under His feet, it is certain that He lieth not; ‘all things’ must also comprise the mighty ones assembled at Nuremberg, not to speak of that Dresden bubble [Duke George of Saxony]. Let them therefore set about deposing Christ. We, however, will calmly look on while the Father Almighty preserves His Son at His right hand from the face and the tail of these smoking firebrands” (Isa. vii. 4). Should a rising or a tumult among the people ensue “which cannot be suppressed by force, then that will be the Lord’s own work; He conceals the danger from the sight of the Princes; and, owing to their blindness and rebellion, He will work such things that methinks all Germany will be deluged with blood. We shall ‘set ourselves like a hedge before God in favour of the land and the people’ (Ezek. xxii. 30), in this day of His great wrath, wherefore do you and your people pray for us.” These words were addressed to an old Augustinian friend to whom he showed himself undisguisedly and in his true colours. In the same letter he has it that he considers it quite certain that Carlstadt, Gabriel Zwilling and the fanatical Anabaptists were preaching without any real call, in fact, against God’s will. To himself he applies the words of our Redeemer: “He Whom God has sent speaketh the words of God” (John iii. 34), and “He that seeketh the glory of Him that sent Him is true” (John vii. 18). Fully convinced of the Divine inspiration and compulsion he exclaims: “For this reason did I yield to necessity and return [from the Wartburg], viz. that I might, if God wills, put an end to this devils’ uproar” (of the fanatics). If Luther sought to show the fanatics that their fruits bore witness against them and their doctrine, it is worthy of note that Staupitz, his former Superior, about this very time, confronted Luther with the disastrous fruits of his action, in order to dissuade him from the course he was pursuing. Staupitz, who so far had been his patron, had grown apprehensive of the character of the movement. His warning, however, only acted as oil on the flame of the enthusiasm then surging up in Luther. In his reply, dated in May, 1522, we find the real Luther, the prophet full of his own great plans: “You write that my undertaking is praised [by discreditable people], and by those who frequent houses of ill-fame, and that much scandal has been given by my latest writings. I am not surprised at this, neither am I apprehensive. It is certain that we for our part have been careful to proclaim the pure Word without causing any tumult; the good and the bad alike make use of this Word, and this, as you know, we cannot help.... For we do what Christ foretold when He commanded the angels to collect and remove out of His Kingdom all scandals. Father, I cannot do otherwise than destroy the Kingdom of the Pope, the Kingdom of abomination and wickedness together with all its train. God is already doing this without us, without any assistance from us, merely by His Word. The end of this Kingdom is come before the Lord. The matter far exceeds our powers of comprehension.... Great commotion of minds, great scandals and great signs must follow, in view of God’s greatness. But, dear father, I hope this will not trouble you; God’s plan is visible in these things and His mighty hand. You will remember that at the outset everybody thought my undertaking suspicious, doubtful and altogether too bad, and yet it has held the field and will hold its own in spite of your apprehensions; only have patience. Satan feels the smart of his wound, and that is why he rages so greatly and sets all at loggerheads. But Christ Who has begun the work will trample him under foot; and the gates of hell will do their worst, but all in vain.” So perverted an application of the promise solemnly made by Christ to the Church of Peter, that the gates of hell should not prevail against it, had surely never before been heard. Words such as these would even sound incredible did we not learn from the same letter into what a state of nervous excitement the ban and excommunication had plunged him. At Antwerp, Jacob Probst, one of his followers, was to be burned with two of his comrades, and in various localities Luther’s writings, by order of the authorities, were being consigned to the flames. This it was which made him say in his letter: “My death by fire is already under discussion; but I only defy Satan and his myrmidons the more that the day of Christ may be hastened, when an end will be put to Antichrist. Farewell, father, and pray for me.... The Evangel is a scandal to the self-righteous and to all who think themselves wise.” The later occasions on which this peculiar mystic idea asserted itself most strongly and vividly were during the exciting events of the Peasant War of 1525; in 1528, at the time his Evangel was in danger from the Empire, while he was tormented within; his sojourn in the fortress of Coburg during the much-dreaded Diet of Augsburg, in 1530, when he again endured profound mental agony; the period of the Schmalkald negotiations, in 1537, when the Council of Trent had already been summoned, while Luther was suffering much from disease; finally, in the last years of his life, accompanied as they were by recurring friction with the various Courts and hostile parties, when a growing bitterness dominated his spirit. In this last period of his career the sense of his Divine mission revived in full force, never again to quit him. His statements concerning his mission now bear a more pessimistic stamp, but he nevertheless holds fast to it and allows nothing to disconcert him by any suspicion of a mistake on his part, nor does he betray any trace of his earlier doubts and misgivings. “We know that it is God’s cause,” he says in 1541 to the Electoral Chancellor BrÜck: “God has commenced it and carried it through, and He too will finish it! Whoever does not wish to follow us, let him fall to the rear, with the Emperor and the Turk; all the devils shall gain nothing here, let what God wills befall us.” “It annoys me that they should esteem these things [of the Evangel] as though they were secular, Imperial, Turkish or princely matters to be decided and controlled, bestowed and accepted by reason alone. It is a matter which God and the devil with their respective angels must arrange. Whoever does not believe this will do no good in the business.” When the negotiations at Ratisbon seemed to be exposing the timorous Melanchthon to the “snares of Satan,” Luther in his wonted presumptuous fashion wrote to him: “Our cause is not to be controlled by our own action, but only by God’s Providence. The Word progresses, prayer is ardent, hope endures, faith conquers, so that verily we cannot but see it, and might even sleep calmly and feast were we not so carnal; for the words of Moses are also addressed to us: ‘The Lord will fight for you and you shall hold your peace’ (cp. Exod. xiv. 14). It is certain In what frame of mind he then was, and what strange judgments he could pass, is seen even more plainly from what he adds concerning a tract he had just published against Duke Henry of Brunswick. This work, entitled “Wider Hans Worst,” is, in style and matter, an attack of indescribable violence on this Catholic prince and Catholics in general. Yet Luther writes of it to Melanchthon: “I have re-read my book against this devil, and I cannot understand what has happened to make me so restrained. I attribute it to my headache which prevented my mind from being carried away on the wings of the storm.” The “bloodhound and incendiary assassin,” as he calls the Duke, would otherwise have had to listen to a very different song for having compelled Luther to “waste his time on Henry’s devil’s excrement.” That the Duke had been the originator of the appalling number of fires which occurred in the Electorate of Hesse in 1540, both Luther and Melanchthon were firmly convinced. Luther’s readiness to cherish the blackest suspicions, his volcanic rage against Catholics, the pessimism of his reiterated cry: “Let everything fall, stand or sink into ruins, as it pleases; let things take their own course,” We must here revert to some of Luther’s Statements concerning the triumphant progress of the Evangel and the determined resistance to be offered to all opposing forces—solemn declarations which attain their full meaning only in the light of his idea of his own Divine mission. We give the gist of the passages already quoted in detail elsewhere. These passages, which reek of revolution, are altogether inspired by the glowing idea of his heavenly mission apart from which they are scarcely comprehensible. “If war is to come of it, let it come,” etc. “Princely foes are delivered up to us as a holocaust in order that they may “Let things run on merrily and be prepared for the worst,” “whether it be war or revolt, as God’s anger may decree.” “Let justice take its course even should the whole world fall into ruins.” “It is said, ‘If the Pope fall, Germany will perish.’ “It is God’s Word. Let what cannot stand, fall, and what is not to remain, pass away.” “It is a great thing,” he continues, “that for the sake of the young man [the Divine Redeemer] this Jewish Kingdom and the Divine Service which had been so gloriously instituted and ordered should fall to the ground.” Not Christ alone, he says, had spoken of His work in the same way that he (Luther) did of his own, but St. Paul also, in spite of his grief over the Jews, had, like himself, constantly declared: “The Word is true, else everything must fall into ruins; for He Who sent me and commanded me to preach, will not lie.” His followers recalled his words, that it were better “all churches, convents and foundations throughout the world should be rooted out” than that “even one soul should be seduced by such [Popish] error.” These outbursts date almost all from the time of the Diet of Augsburg, or that immediately succeeding it. They might, however, be compared with some earlier utterances not one whit less full of fanaticism; for instance, where he says to the Elector, in 1522: “Not only the spiritual but also the secular power must yield to the Evangel, whether willingly or unwillingly”; A flood of rage and passionate enthusiasm for his mission finds vent in these words: “If they hope ever to exterminate the Turks they must begin with the Pope.” Previous to this, in February, 1519, he reveals in the following words the agitation and ferment going on within him: “I adjure you,” he says to his friend Spalatin, “if you would think aright of the Evangel, not to imagine that such a cause can be fought out without tumults, scandal and rebellion. You cannot make a pen out of a sword, or peace of war. The Word of God is a sword, war, ruin, scandal, destruction, poison and, as we read in the Old Covenant, ‘Like to a bear in the road and a lioness in the wood,’ so it withstands the sons of Ephraim.” No Apostle or Prophet ever laid claim to a Divine authorisation for their preaching in language so violent. Indeed, mere phrases and extracts from his writings scarcely suffice to give a true picture of the intensity of his prepossession for his supposed Divine calling and of his furious hatred of his opponents. It would, in fact, be necessary to read in their entirety certain of his polemical works. That they have not done so is the explanation why so many know only a polished Luther and have scarcely an inkling of the fierceness of the struggle which centred round his consciousness Nor was this consciousness of his without its effects on those around him. During the long years of his public life, it kindled the passion of thousands and contributed largely to the Peasant Revolt and the unhappy religious wars which followed later. Indirectly it was also productive of disaster for the Empire by forcing it to make terms with the turbulent elements within, and by preventing it from displaying a united front against the Turks and other enemies without. On the other hand, in the case of very many who honestly looked on Luther as a real reformer of the Church, it also served to infuse into them new enthusiasm for what they deemed the Christian cause. Its effect on Luther’s character in later life was such as to make him, in his writings to the German people, rave like a maniac of the different forms of death best suited for Pope and Cardinals, viz. being hanged on the gallows with their tongues torn out, being drowned in the Tyrrhenean Sea, or “flayed alive.” If we remember the frenzy with which he carried out his religious enterprise, the high tension at which he ever worked and his inexhaustible source of eloquence, it is easy to fancy ourselves face to face with something more than human. The real nature of the spirit which, throughout Luther’s life, was ever so frantically at work within him, must for ever remain a secret. One eye alone, that of the All-seeing, can pierce these depths. Anxious Catholic contemporaries of Luther’s strongly suspected that they had to deal with one possessed by the evil spirit. This opinion was openly voiced, first by Johann Nathin, Luther’s contemporary at the Erfurt monastery, by Emser, CochlÆus, Dungersheim and certain other early opponents, and then by several others whose testimony will be heard later (vol. iv., xxvii., 1). Catholic contemporaries also urged that his claim to a Divine mission was mere impudence. A simple monk, hitherto quite unknown to the world, so they said, breaks Luther, on the contrary, sought to base his claim to a Divine mission on the abuses rampant in Popery, which, he would have it, was altogether under the dominion of the devil and quite beyond redemption. 2. His Mission Alleged against the PapistsLuther, subsequent to his apostasy, accustomed himself to speak of Catholicism in a fashion scarcely credible. He did not shrink even from the grossest and most impudent depreciation of the Church of the Popes. His incessant indulgence in such abuse calls for some examination into its nature and the mental state of which it was a product. The Pope and the Papacy.The Roman Curia, Luther repeatedly declared, did not believe one word of all the truths of religion; at the faithful who held fast to Revelation they scoffed and called them good simpletons (“buoni cristiani”); they knew nothing either of the Creed or of the Our Father, and from all the ecclesiastical books put together not as much could be learnt as from one page of Martin Luther’s Catechism. “Mark this well,” he declared as early as 1520 in his work “Von dem Bapstum tzu Rome,” of all that is ordered of God not one jot or tittle is observed at Rome; indeed, they mock at it as folly when anyone pays any attention to it. They don’t mind a bit that the Gospel and the faith of Christ are perishing throughout “What cares the Pope about prayer and God’s Word? He has his own god to serve, viz. the devil. But this is a mere trifle.... What is far worse, and a real masterpiece of all the devils in hell, is, that he usurps the authority to set up laws and articles of faith.... He roars, as though chock-full of devils, that whosoever does not obey him and his Romish Church cannot be saved.... Papistically, knavishly, nay, in a truly devilish way, does the Pope, like the stupid scoundrel he is, use the name of the holy Roman Church, when he really means his school of knaves, his Church of harlots and hermaphrodites, the devil’s own hotchpotch.... For such is the language of his Romish Church, and whoever has to do with the Pope and the Roman See must first learn this or else he fares badly. For the devil, who founded the Papacy, speaks and works everything through the Pope and the Roman See.” His “Heer-Predigt widder den TÜrcken,” in 1529, supplied him with the occasion for the following aside: “The Pope’s doctrine is mere spiritual murder and not one whit better than the teaching and blasphemy of Mohammed or the Turks.... We have nothing but devils on either side and everywhere.” “The superstition of the Pope exceeds that of the Jews.” Though the Pope drags countless souls down to hell, yet we may not say to him: “For shame! Why act you thus?” “Had not his prestige been overthrown by the Word [i.e. by my preaching] even the devil would have vomited him forth. But this deliverance [from the Pope] we esteem a small matter and have become ungrateful. God, however, will send other forms of darkness to avenge this ingratitude; we still have this consolation, that the Last Day cannot be far distant; for the prophecy “At Rome,” so he assures his readers, “they pull the noses of us German fools,” and then say, that “it is of Divine institution that none can be made bishop without the authority of Rome. I can only wonder that Germany ... has a farthing left for this horde of unspeakable, intolerable Roman fools, scoundrels and robbers.” “In short, what shall I say? No error, superstition or idolatry is too gross to be admitted and accepted; at Rome they even honour the Pope as God. And the heathen also had a god, whose name it was not lawful to utter.” The Catholics.If we turn from the Pope-God or Pope-devil to the Papists, from the Roman Curia to the Catholics, we find them scourged in similar language. Amidst a wealth of imagery quite bewildering to the mind, one idea emerges clearly, viz. that he has been summoned by God for the purpose of rebuilding Christianity from the very foundation. Nothing but such a mission could justify him in forcing upon himself and others the belief, that the existing Church had been utterly corrupted by the devil and that everybody who dared to oppose him was inspired by Satan. “No one can be a Papist unless he is at the very least a murderer, robber or persecutor,” for “he must agree” that the “Pope and his crew are right in burning and banishing people,” Their bloodthirstiness is beyond belief. “They would not care a scrap were no Prince or ruler left in Germany, and were the whole land bathed in blood, so long as they were free to exercise their tyranny and lead their godless and shameless life.” The Catholics profess “unbelief in God,” and “put to death those guileless Christians who refuse to countenance such idolatry”; they are “not fit to be compared with oxen or asses,” seeing that they exalt “their self-chosen works,” “far above God’s commandment. For in addition to the idolatry and ungodly teaching whereby they daily outrage and blaspheme God, they do not perform any works of charity towards their neighbour, nay, would rather leave anyone to perish in want than stretch out a hand to help him. Again, they are as careful not to deviate by a hair’s breadth from their man-made ordinances, rules and commands as were the Jews with regard to the Sabbath.... They make no scruple of cheating their neighbour of his money and goods in order to fill their own belly.... Such perverse and crazy saints, more foolish than ever ox or ass, are all those, Mohammedans, Turks or whatever else they be called, who refuse to listen to or receive Christ.” It was Luther that Dr. Jonas had heard, on one occasion at table, express the opinion concerning the Papists: “Young fellows, take note of this definition: A Papist is a liar and murderer, nay, the devil himself. Hence they are not to be trusted, for they thirst for our blood.” Luther himself assures us that “the blindness of the Papists and the anger of God against the Papacy was terrible.” “Christians, redeemed by the Blood of Christ, put away this blood and worshipped the crib, surely an awful fall! If this had happened amongst the heathen it would have been regarded as monstrous.” The Catholics, Luther taught, never pray, in fact, they do not know how to pray but only how to blaspheme. We find other almost incredible allegations born of his fancy and voiced in a sermon in 1524, of which we have a transcript. “They taught the Our Father, but warned us not to use it [by instructing us to get others to pray for us in our stead]. It is true that for many years I shouted [’bawled,’ he says elsewhere] in the monastery [in choir], but never did I pray. They mock the Had it been possible for a man to be saved in Popery? He, Luther, replies that this might have happened because “some laymen” may have “held the crucifix in front of the dying man and said: Look up to Jesus, Who died on the cross for you. By this means many a dying man had turned to Christ in spite of having previously believed in the false, miraculous signs [which the devil performs in Popery] and acted as an idolator. Such, however, were lucky.” Now, however, matters stood differently; thanks to his mission light had dawned again, and the unbelief of the Catholics was therefore all the more reprehensible. In the heat of his polemic Luther goes so far as to accuse the Papists who oppose him of the sin against the Holy Ghost. At any rate they were acting against their conscience, as he had pointed out before. He also hints that theirs is that worst sin, of which Christ declares (Matt. xii. 31), that it can be forgiven neither in this world nor in the next. The greater part of a sermon on this text which he preached at Wittenberg, in 1528 or 1529, deals with this criminal blindness on the part of Catholics, this deliberate turning away from the truth of the Holy Ghost to which Matthew refers. Here, as elsewhere, Luther’s presupposition is: I teach “the bright Evangel with which even they can find no fault”; I preach “nothing but what is plain to all and so clearly grounded on Scripture that they themselves are forced to admit it”; “what is so plainly proved by the Holy Ghost” that it stands out as a “truth known to all.” He proceeds: “When I was a learned Doctor I did not believe there was such a thing on earth as the sin against the Holy Ghost, for I never imagined or believed it was possible to find a heart that could be so wicked.” But “now the Papal horde” has descended to this, for they “blaspheme and lie against their conscience”; they “are unable to refute our Evangel or to advance anything against it,” “yet they knowingly oppose our teaching out of waywardness and hatred of the truth, so that no admonition, counsel, prayer or chastisement is of any avail.” “Thus openly to smite the Holy Ghost on the mouth,” nay, “to spit in His Face,” is to emulate the treachery of Judas in the depth of their “obstinate and venomous hearts”; for such it was “forbidden to pray, The tone of hatred and of blind prejudice in favour of his cause which here finds utterance may be explained to some extent by his experience during the sharp struggles of conscience through which he was then going, and which formed the worst crisis of his inner states of terror. (See vol. v., xxxii., 4.) Nor must the connection be overlooked between his apparent confidence here and the attempt which he makes in one passage of the sermon to justify theologically his radical subversion of olden doctrine. The brief argument runs as follows: “From St. Paul everyone can infer that it cannot be achieved by works, otherwise the Blood of Christ is made of no account.” Hence the holiness-by-works of the Catholics was an abomination. On another occasion Luther, speaking of the wilful blindness of the Catholics, declared that “God’s untold wrath must sooner or later fall upon such Epicurean pigs and donkeys”; the devil must be a spirit of tremendous power to incite them “deliberately to withstand God.” They say and admit: “‘That is, I know, the Word of God, but even though it is the Word of God I shall not suffer it, listen to it, nor regard it, but shall reprove it and call it heretical, and whoever is determined to obey God in this matter ... him I will put to death or banish.’ I could never have believed there was such a sin.” As such declarations of the wilful obstinacy of the Catholics are quite commonly made by him, we are tempted to assume that such was really his opinion; if so, we are here face to face with a remarkable instance of what his self-deception was capable. Even at the Wartburg, however, he was already on the road to such an idea, for, while still there, he had declared that the Papists were unworthy to receive the truth which he preached: “Had they been worthy of the truth, they would long ago have been converted by my many writings.” “If I teach them they only revile me; I implore and they merely mock at me; I scold them and they grow angry; I pray for them and they reject my prayer; I forgive them their trespass and they will have none of my forgiveness; I am ready to sacrifice myself for them and yet they only curse me. What more can I do than Christ?” It is true that according to him the Papists were ignorant to the last degree, and such ignorance had indeed always prevailed under Popery. “I myself have been a learned Doctor of theology and yet I never understood the Ten Commandments aright. Nay, there have been many celebrated Doctors who were not sure whether there were nine or ten or eleven Commandments; much less did they know anything of the Gospel or of Christ.” Still, this appalling ignorance on the part of the Papists did not afford any excuse or ground for charitable treatment. Their malice, particularly that of the Popes, is too great. “The Popes are a pot-boil of the very worst men on earth. They boast of the name of Christ, St. Peter and the Churches and yet are full of the worst devils in hell, full, absolutely full, so full that they drivel, spew and vomit nothing but devils.” A passage in the “Table-Talk” collected by Mathesius and recently published, shows that Luther considered his frenzied anti-popery as the most suitable method of combating Popish errors; “Philip [Melanchthon] isn’t as yet angry enough with the Pope,” he said some time in the winter of 1542-43; “he is moderate by nature and always acts with moderation, which may possibly be of some use, as he himself hopes. But my storming (impetus) knocks the bottom out of the cask; my way is to fall upon them with clubs ... for the devil can only be vanquished by contempt. Enough has been written and said to the weak, as His attitude towards scholarly Catholics was very apparent in the later episodes of his controversy with Erasmus. After having charged Popes and Cardinals with lack of faith, it can be no matter for surprise that he should have represented Erasmus as an utter infidel and a preacher of Epicureanism. The pretexts upon which Luther based this charge had been triumphantly demolished by Erasmus, and only Luther’s prejudice in favour of his own mission to save Christendom from destruction could have led him to describe Erasmus as a depraved fellow, who personified all the infidelity and corruption of the Papacy. “This man learned his infidelity in Rome,” Luther ventured to say of him; hence his wish “to have his Epicureanism praised.” “He is the worst foe of Christ that has arisen for the last thousand years.” On another occasion Luther abuses his opponent as follows: “The only foundation of all his teaching is his desire to gain the applause of the world; he weights the scale with ignorance and malice.” “What is the good of reproaching him with being on the same road as Epicurus, Lucian and the sceptics? By doing so I merely succeeded in rousing the viper, and in its fury against me it gave birth to the Viperaspides [i.e. the “Hyperaspistes”]. In Italy and at Rome he sucked in the milk of the LamiÆ and MegÆrÆ and now no medicine is of any avail.” Even in what Erasmus says concerning the Creed, we see the “os et organum SatanÆ.” He may be compared with the enemy in the Gospel, who, while men slept, sowed cockel in the field. We can understand now how Sacramentarians, Donatists, Arians, Anabaptists, Epicureans and so forth have again made their appearance. He sowed his seed and then disappeared. And yet he stands in high honour with Pope and Prince. “Who would This letter Erasmus described in the title of his printed reply as “Epistola non sobria Martini Lutheri.” Others, he says, might well explain it as a mental aberration, or as due to the influence of some evil demon. Luther, quite undismayed, continued to deny that Erasmus was in any sense a believer: “He regards the Christian religion and doctrine as a comedy or tragedy”; he is “a perfect counterfeit and image of Epicurus”; to this “incarnate scoundrel, God—the Father, Son and Holy Ghost—is merely ludicrous.” “Whereas I did not take the trouble to read most of the other screeds published against me, but merely put them to the basest use that paper can be put—which indeed was all they were worth—I read through the whole of the ‘Diatribe’ of Erasmus, though I was often tempted to throw it aside.” He, like Democritus, the cynical heathen philosopher, looks on our whole theology as nothing better than a fairy tale. We may well be permitted to regard such statements made by Luther in his later years concerning the Catholics more as the result of a delusion than as deliberate falsehoods. It may be that Luther gradually persuaded himself that such was really the case. If this be so, we must, however, admit with DÖllinger “the unparalleled perversion and darkening of Luther’s judgment”; this, adds DÖllinger, would explain “much in his statements which must otherwise appear enigmatical.” From the very outset of his career Luther had been paving the way for this delusion as to the true character of his Catholic opponents, his own higher mission and God’s overthrow of all gainsayers. In 1518 he declared, as a sort of prelude to the idea of his Divine mission, that the Catholic Doctors who opposed him were sunk in “chaotic darkness,” and that he preached “the one true light, Jesus Christ.” His pupils and Wittenberg adherents treasured up such assurances of his extraordinary mission in order to excite their own enthusiasm. Even Albert DÜrer, who was further removed from the sphere of his influence, spoke of him in Other Lutheran theologians, Gerhard and Calovius, for instance, refused to see in Luther’s case anything more than an indirect call; about the middle of the eighteenth century the editor of Luther’s Works, Consistorialrat Prof. J. G. Walch, of Jena, asserted openly of Luther’s mission that he “was not called directly by God as had been the case with the Prophets and Apostles”; his call had only in so far been beyond the ordinary in that “God, after decreeing in His Divine plans the Reformation, had chosen Luther as His tool”; hence Luther’s providential mission was only to be inferred from the “divinity of the Reformation,” which, however, was apparent to all who “did not wantonly and maliciously shut their eyes to facts.” Extraordinary gifts had not indeed been bestowed upon him by God, though he had all the “gifts pertaining to his office” in rich measure, and likewise the “sanctifying gifts” and the “spiritual graces”; the latter Walch then proceeds to dissect with painstaking exactitude. Such a view marks the transition to the modern conception of Luther so widely prevalent among Protestants to-day, which, while extolling him as the powerful instrument of the Reformation, naturalises him, so to speak, and takes him down from the pedestal of the God-illumined teacher and prophet, who proclaims a Divine interpretation of Scripture binding upon all. Apocalyptico-Mystic Vesture.Against Catholics Luther also used certain pseudo-mystic elements drawn from his consciousness of a higher mission and based principally on Holy Scripture. In this respect his one-sided study of the Bible explains much, and should avail to mitigate our judgment on him. Stories and scenes from the Old Testament, incidents from the heroic times of the prophets, the lives of the patriarchs, to which he had devoted special Commentaries, so engrossed his mind, that, unwittingly, he came to clothe all in the garb of the prominent figures of Bible history. He was fond of imagining himself as one of those privileged heroes living in the same world of miracles as of yore. If a she-ass could speak to Balaam then how much more can he, Luther, proclaim the truth by the power from on high, even though the whole world should be astonished at the solitary figure who dares to stand up against it. He calls to mind, that the prophet Elias was almost alone in refusing to bow the knee to Baal. Discouraged by the opposition he met with from the Catholic party he was ready to liken himself to Jeremias the prophet, and like him to say: “We would have cured Babylon, but she is not healed, let us forsake her.” In the New Testament Christ Himself and the Apostles were Luther’s favourite types, because, like himself, they were against a whole world whose views were different. The fact that they were alone did not, he says, diminish their reputation, and their success proved their mission. Like Paul and Athanasius and Augustine it is his duty to withstand the stream of false opinions: “My rock, that on which I build, stands firm and will not totter or fall in spite of all the gates of hell; of this I am certain.... Who knows what God wills to work by our means?” When, at different periods of his public career, and in preparing his various works for the press, he had occasion to ruminate on the biblical questions connected with Antichrist, he was wont also to consider the prophecies of Daniel on the end of the world. By dint of a diligent comparison of all the passages on the abominations of the latter days he came to find therein the corruption of the Papacy fully described, even down to the smallest details, with an account of its overthrow, and, consequently, also of his own mission. In the same way that he saw the impending fall of the Turkish Empire predicted, so also he recognised that the German Empire must shortly perish, since, as he had In Daniel viii. we read that a king will come, “of a shameless face, and understanding dark sentences.” He will lay all things waste and destroy the mighty and the people of the saints according to his will. “Craft shall be successful in his hands and his heart shall be puffed up. He shall rise up against the prince of princes, and shall be broken without a hand.” His coming will be “after many days.” This idea he finally elaborated while writing his violent work “On the Babylonish Captivity.” He therein promised to tell the Papists things such as they had never heard before. This promise he fulfilled soon after in the detailed reply to Ambrosius Catharinus, which he hastily wrote in the month of March, 1521. In this Latin work he proved in detail to the satisfaction of learned readers, whether in Germany or abroad, that the Papacy was plainly depicted in the Bible as Antichrist, and likewise its approaching great fall. “I think that, through my exposition of the Prophet Daniel, I have carried out excellently what I promised the Papists to do.” Thus to his friend Link, on the completion of the work. Daniel’s Antichrist, according to Luther’s interpretation, Apocalyptic fancies such as the above were to dog Luther’s footsteps for the rest of his life. Both in his writings and in his “Table-Talk” he was never backward in putting forth his views on this abstruse subject. Of the ideas concerning the Papal Antichrist which, since Hus’s time were current among the classes hostile to Rome, We may distinguish between the earliest private and the earliest public appearance of Luther’s idea of the Papal Antichrist. Its first unmistakable private trace is to be met with in a letter of December 11, 1518, to his brother-monk and sympathiser Wenceslaus Link. Luther was at Not long after Luther showed how deeply he had drunk in the ideas of Hus; in February, 1520, he confessed to being a Husite, since both he and Staupitz too had hitherto taught precisely Hus’s doctrine, though without having recognised him as their leader; the plain, evangelical truth had been burnt a hundred years before in the person of Hus. “I am so astonished I know not what to think when I contemplate these terrible judgments of God upon men.” In his conception of Antichrist Luther differed from antiquity in that he applied the term not so much to a person as to a system, or a condition of things: the ecclesiastical government of Rome, with its “pretensions” and its “corruption,” appears to him in his apocalyptic dreams as the real Antichrist. That he finally came to see in the person of the Pope more and more an embodiment of Antichrist was, however, only to be expected; when one wearer of the Papal tiara died, the mask of Antichrist passed to his successor, a matter of no difficulty since, as the end of the world was nigh, the number of the Popes was in any case complete. As early as February 24, 1520, having previously found Greater even than the influence of such writings, in confirming him in his persuasion that the Pope was Antichrist, was that of the excitement caused by his polemics. We have already had occasion to speak of his stormy replies to the “Epitome” of Silvester Prierias and the controversial pamphlet of Augustine Alveld the Franciscan friar. In the latter rejoinder he promises to handle the Papacy “mercilessly” and to belabour Antichrist as he deserves. “Circumstances demand imperatively that the veil be torn from the mysteries of Antichrist; indeed, in their effrontery they themselves refuse to be any longer shrouded in darkness.” Speaking of Prierias, who was a Roman, he says: “I believe that at Rome they have all gone stark, staring mad, and become senseless fools, stocks, stones, devils and a very hell”; “what now can we expect from Rome where such a monster is permitted to take his place in the Church?” The anger of the sensitive and excitable Wittenberg professor had been roused by contradiction, particularly by the tract which hailed from Rome, but the arrival of the Bull of Excommunication moved him to the very depths of his soul and led him to commit to writing the most hateful travesties of the Roman Papacy. In the storm and stress of the struggle, which in the latter half of 1520 produced the so-called great Reformation works, the Antichrist theory, in its final form, was made to serve as a bulwark against the Papal excommunication and its consequences. Luther drops all qualifications and henceforth his assertions are positive. The wider becomes the breach separating him from Rome, the blacker must he paint his opponents in order to justify himself before the world and to his own satisfaction. Previous to its publication he summed up the contents of his “An den christlichen Adel” as follows: “There the Pope is severely mauled and treated as Antichrist.” Hereby he had prepared the way for his attack upon Leo the Tenth’s Bull of Excommunication, which he published in German and Latin at the end of October, 1520, under the title, “Widder die Bullen des Endchrists” and “Adversus execrabilem Antichristi bullam.” It is easy to meet the objection that the Papal Antichrist was nothing more to Luther than a serviceable catchword, and that he never meant it seriously. That such was not the case we have abundantly proved already; on the contrary, we have here a clear outgrowth of his pseudo-mysticism. He ever preserved it as a sacred possession, and it found its way in due season into the Schmalkald Articles The Bible assures us, according to Luther, that, “after the downfall of the Pope and the delivery of the poor, no one on earth would be feared as a tyrant” (Psalm x. 18); now, he continues, “this would not be possible were the world to continue after the Pope’s fall, for the world cannot exist without tyrants. And thus the prophet agrees with the Apostle that Christ at His coming [i.e. His second coming, for the Last Judgment] will upset the holy Roman Chair. God grant this happen speedily. Amen.” In 1541, Luther wrote a Latin essay on the Chronology of the World, which, in 1550, was published in German by Johann Aurifaber under the title of “Luthers Chronica.” This work, which witnesses both to Luther’s industry and to his interest in history, is also made to serve its author’s views on Antichrist. Towards the end, alluding to what he had already said concerning the several periods of the world’s history, he adds, that it was “to be hoped that the end of the world was drawing near, for the sixth millenary of its history would not be completed, any more than the three days between Christ’s death and resurrection.” Besides, “at no other time had greater and more numerous signs taken place, which gives us a certain hope that the Last Day is at the very door.” In the same year his tireless pen, amongst other writings, produced a Commentary on Daniel xii. concerning the “end of the days,” the abomination of desolation and the general retribution. The Papal Antichrist here again supplies him with abundant exemplifications of the fulfilment of the prophecy; the signs foretold to herald the destruction of this Empire, so hostile to God, had almost all been accomplished, and the great day was at hand. Other people, and, among them some of the great lights of Catholicism, both before and after Luther’s day, have erred in their exegesis of Antichrist and been led to expect prematurely the end of the world. Yet only in Luther do we find united a fanatical expectation of the end with a minute acquaintance with its every detail, scriptural demonstrations with anxious observation of the events of the times, all steeped in the deadliest hatred of that mortal enemy the Papacy. His conviction that God was proving his mission by signs and wonders sometimes assumed unfortunate forms, for instance, when he superstitiously seeks its attestation in incidents of his own day. We see an example of this in the meaning he attached to the huge whale driven ashore near Haarlem, in which he saw a sign of God’s wrath against the Papists. “The Lord has given them an ominous sign,” he writes, on June 13, 1522, to Speratus, “if so be they enter into themselves and do penance. For He has cast a sea monster called a whale, 70 feet in length and 35 feet in girth, on the shore near Haarlem. Such a monster it is usual to regard as a certain sign of wrath. May God have mercy on them and on us.” When, in 1536, extraordinary deeds were narrated of a girl at Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, and attributed to demoniacal possession (she could, for instance, produce coins from all sorts of impossible places, even out of men’s beards), Luther, we are told, utilised in the pulpit these terrible signs and portents, “as a warning to abandoned persons who deem themselves secure, in order that now, at last, they may begin to fear God and to put their trust in Him.” At Freiberg in Saxony, towards the end of 1522, a cow was delivered of a deformed calf. On this becoming known, people, as was then the vogue, set about discovering the meaning of the portent. An astrologer of Prague first took the extraordinary phenomenon to refer to Luther, whose hateful and wicked behaviour was portrayed in the miscarriage. Luther, on the other hand, discovered that the monstrosity really represented a naked calf clothed in a cowl (the skin was drawn up into strange creases on the back), and that it therefore indicated the monkish state, of the worthlessness of which it was a true picture, and God’s wrath against monasticism. In a tract published in the spring, 1523, he compared in such detail and with such wealth of fancy the creature to the monks that the work itself was termed monstrous. It would be to misapprehend the whole character of the writing to assert, as has recently been done by an historian of Luther, that the author was merely joking, and that what he says of the Monk-Calf was simply a jest at the expense of the Pope and the monks. As a matter of fact, every line of the work protests against such a misrepresentation of the author and his prophetic mysticism, and no one can read the pamphlet without being struck by the entire seriousness which it breathes. The tragic earnestness of the whole is evident in the very first pages, where Luther allows a friend to give his own interpretation of a similar abortion (the Pope-Ass) born in Italy. Here the writer is no other than the learned Humanist Melanchthon, who, like Luther, with the help of a woodcut, describes and explains the portent. Pope-Ass and Monk-Calf made the round of Germany together, in successive editions. Melanchthon, scholar though he was, is not one whit less earnest in the significance he attaches to the “Pope-Ass found dead in 1496 in the Tiber at Rome.” After this double work, so little to the credit of German literature, had frequently been reprinted, Luther, in 1535, added two additional pages to Melanchthon’s text with a corroboration entitled: “Dr. Martin Luther’s Amen to the interpretation of the Pope-Ass.” He here accepts entirely Melanchthon’s exposition, which was more than the latter was willing to do for Luther’s interpretation of the Monk-Calf. Melanchthon’s opinion, for which perhaps more might be said, was that the misshapen calf stood for the corruption of the Lutheran teaching by sensuality and perverse doctrine, iconoclast violence and revolutionary peasant movements. In his “Amen” to Melanchthon’s Pope-Ass, Luther writes: “The Sublime, Divine Wisdom Itself” “created this hideous, shocking and horrible image.” “Well may the whole world be affrighted and tremble.” “People are terrified if a spirit or devil appears, or makes a clatter in a corner, though this is but mere child’s play compared with such an abomination, wherein God manifests Himself In his Church-postils Luther spoke of the “Pope-Ass” with an earnestness calculated to make a profound impression upon the susceptible. He referred to the “dreadful beast which the Tiber had cast up at Rome some years before, with an ass’s head, a body like a woman’s, an elephant’s foot for a right hand, with fish scales on its legs, and a dragon’s head at its rear, etc. All this signified the Papacy and the great wrath and chastisement of God. Signs in such number portend something greater than our reason can conceive.” As Luther makes such frequent use of the Pope-Ass, which he was instrumental in immortalising, for instance, in the frightful abuse of the Pope contained in “Das Bapstum zu Rom vom Teuffel gestifft,” The dead beast was said to have been left stranded on the banks of the Tiber in January, 1496, under the pontificate of Pope Alexander VI., when Italy was in a state of great distress. The find made a profound impression, as was only to be expected in those days of excitement and superstition; it was greatly exaggerated, and, at an early date, interpreted in various ways. Melanchthon and Luther diverged in their use of this picture from the older and more harmless interpretation, i.e. that which saw in it a reference to earthly trials, or a judgment on the politics of the Pope. They, on the contrary, regarded it as a denunciation by heaven of the Papacy itself and of the Roman Church with all its “abominations.” Quite possibly the transition had been quietly effected by the Bohemian Brethren. Luther, however, says Lange, “was the first to make it public property.” “The Pope-Ass is for this reason the most interesting example of the whole teratological literature, because in it we can see the transition visibly effected.” The same author detects in the joint work of the two Wittenbergers “a polemical tone hitherto unheard of”; of Melanchthon’s Pope-Ass, he says: “It is probably the most unworthy work we have of Melanchthon’s. He himself naturally believed implicitly in what he wrote.... That Melanchthon acquitted himself of his task with particular skill cannot be affirmed.” Just as the Monk-Calf had been applied to Luther himself previous to his own polemical interpretation of it, so, after the appearance of his and Melanchthon’s joint publication, both the Calf and the Ass were repeatedly taken by the Catholic controversialists to represent Luther and his innovations. The sixteenth century, as already hinted, loved to dwell upon and expound such freaks of nature. Authors of repute had done so before Luther, at least to the extent of making such the subject of indifferent compositions, as the poet J. Franciscus Vitalis of Palermo had done (“De monstro nato”) in the case of a monstrosity said to have been born at Ravenna in 1511 or 1512; the Humanist Jacob Locher, at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, dealt with a similar case in his “Carmen heroicum.” Conrad Lycosthenes published at Basle, in 1557, a compendium of the prodigies of nature (“Prodigiorum ac ostentorum chronicon”), in which he instances a large number of such freaks famous even before Luther’s day. Of the earlier Humanists Sebastian Brant composed some Elegies on the Marvels of Nature. The Wittenberg work on the Calf and Ass must be put in its 3. Proofs of the Divine Mission. Miracles and PropheciesHow was Luther to give actual proof of the reality of his call and of his mission to introduce such far-reaching ecclesiastical innovations? Luther himself, indirectly, invited his hearers to ask this question concerning his calling. “Whoever teaches anything new or strange” must be “called to the office of preacher” he frequently declares of those new doctrines which differed from his own; no one who has not a legitimate mission will be able to withstand the devil, but on the contrary will be cast down to hell. His teaching is, “There are two sorts of vocations to the office of preacher”; one takes place without any human means by God alone [the extraordinary call], the other [the ordinary] is effected by man as well as by God. The first is not to be credited unless attested by miracles such as were performed by Christ and His Apostles. Hence, if they come and say God has called them, that the Holy Ghost urges them, and they are forced to preach, let us ask them boldly: Which of the two kinds of vocation must we see in Luther’s case? Was his the ordinary one, which keeps to the well-trodden path, or the extraordinary one, which “strikes out a new way”? Simple as the question appears, it is nevertheless difficult to give a straight answer in Luther’s own words. As has been proved by DÖllinger in his work on the Reformation, and as was well seen even by earlier polemical writers, Luther’s statements concerning his own mission were not remarkable for consistency. No less than fourteen variations have been counted, though, naturally, they do not involve as many changes of opinion. The assumption of an extraordinary call offers, however, an insuperable difficulty which cannot fail to present itself after what has been said. No extraordinary attestation on the part of heaven is forthcoming, nor any miracle which might have confirmed Luther’s doctrine; God’s witness on behalf of His messenger by signs or prophecies, such as those of Christ, of the Apostles and of many of the Saints, was lacking in Luther’s case, and so was that sanctity of life to be expected of a divinely commissioned teacher whose mission it is to bring men to the truth. No one now believes in the existence of any actual and authentic miracle performed by Luther, or in any real prophecy, whether about or by him. With the tales of miracles which once found favour among credulous Pietists, history has no concern. Though here and there some credence still attaches to the alleged prediction of Hus, which Luther himself appealed to, In reply to the attempts made, more particularly in the days of Protestant orthodoxy in the sixteenth century, to compare the rapid spread of Protestantism with the miracle of the rapid propagation of Christianity in early days, it has rightly been pointed out, that the comparison is a lame one; the Church of Christ spread because her moral power enabled her to impose on a proud world mysteries which transcend all human reason; on a world sunk in every lust and vice a moral law demanding a continual struggle against all the passions and desires of the heart; her conquest of the world was achieved without secular aid or support, in fact, in the very teeth of the great ones of the earth who for ages persecuted her; yet during this struggle she laid her foundations in the unity of the one faith and one hierarchy; her spread, then, was truly miraculous. Luther, on the other hand, so his opponents urged, by his opposition to ecclesiastical authority and his principle of the free interpretation of Scripture, was casting humility to the winds and setting up the individual as the highest authority in matters of religion; thanks to his “evangelical freedom” he felt justified in deriding as holiness-by-works much that in Christianity was a burden or troublesome; on the other hand, by his doctrine of imputation, he cast the mantle of Concerning the miracle spoken of above, and miracles in general as proofs of the truth, Luther expresses himself in the third sermon on the Ascension, embodied in his Church-postils. The occasion was furnished by the words of Our Lord: “These signs shall follow those who believe” (Mark xvi. 17), and by the pertinent question addressed to him by the fanatics and other opponents: Where are your miracles? With remarkable assurance he will have it, that to put such a question to him was quite “idle”; miracles enough had taken place when Christianity was first preached to make good the words spoken by Our Lord; at the present day the Gospel had no further need of them; such outward signs had been suitable “for the heathen,” whereas, now, the Gospel had been “proclaimed everywhere.”—He does not see that though the Gospel had certainly been proclaimed everywhere this was was not his own particular Gospel or Evangel, and that he is therefore begging the question. He continues quite undismayed: Miracles may nevertheless take place, and do, as a matter of fact, occur under the Evangel, for instance, the driving out of devils and the healing of sicknesses. “The best and greatest miracle” is, however, the spread and preservation of my doctrine in spite of the assaults of devils, tyrants and fanatics, in spite of flesh and blood, of the “Pope, the Turk and his myrmidons.” Is it no miracle, that “so many die cheerfully in Christ” in this faith? Compared with this miracle, declares the orator, those miracles which appeal to the senses are mere child’s play; this is a “miracle beyond all miracles”; well might people be astonished at the survival of his doctrine “when a hundred thousand devils were striving against it.” It was only to be expected that this miracle should be blasphemed by an unbelieving world, but “were we to perform the most palpable miracles, they would still despise them.” This is why God does not work them through us, just as Christ Himself, although able to perform miracles with the greatest ease, once refused to give the Jews Hence he is willing to allow the absence of “palpable miracles” in support of his Evangel, in default of which, however, he instances the miracle of his great success. And yet, according to his own showing, such an attestation by palpable miracles would have been eminently desirable. Germany, he says, from the early days of her conversion down to his own time, had never been in possession of Christianity, because the real Gospel, i.e. the doctrine of Justification, had remained unknown. Only now for the first time had the Gospel been revealed in all its purity, thanks to his study of Scripture. Thus he requires that his unheard-of claims, albeit not attested by any display of miracles, should be accepted simply on his own assurance that his teaching was based on Holy Scripture. “There is no need for us to work wonders, for our teaching is already confirmed [by Holy Scripture] and is no new thing.” Owing to the lack of any Divine attestation, Luther often preferred to describe his mission as an ordinary one. In this case he derives his vocation to teach from his degree of Doctor of Theology and from the authority given him by the authorities to preach. “I, Dr. Martin,” he says, for instance, speaking of his doctorate, “was called and compelled thereto; for I was forced to become a Doctor Neither could the want of a call be supplied by the authorisation of the Wittenberg Council, upon which at times Luther was wont to lay stress. He himself hesitated to allow that magistrates or Princes could give a call, particularly where the teaching of any of those thus appointed by the magistrates ran counter to his own. Even though their teaching agreed entirely with the views of the secular authorities, their mission was in his eyes quite invalid. He even had frequent cause to complain, that the Evangel was greatly hampered by the interference of the secular authorities and by their sending out as preachers those who had no real call, and were utterly unfitted for the office. After what has gone before, we can readily understand how Luther came to pass over in silence the question of his mission and to appeal directly to his preaching of the truth as the sign of his vocation; he does not seem to have perceived that the main point was to establish a criterion for the recognition of the truth, short of which anyone would be at liberty to set up his pet error as the “truth.” “The first,” though not the only condition, was, he declared, “that the preacher should have an office, be convinced that he was called and sent, and that what he did was done for the sake of his office”; seeing, however, that even the Papists fulfilled these conditions, Luther usually required In 1522 he declared any questioning of his vocation to be mere perversity, for, of his call, no creature had a right to judge. We cannot but quote again this assurance, “My doctrine is not to be judged by any man, nor even by the angels; because I am certain of it, I will judge you and the angels likewise, as St. Paul says (Gal. i. 8), and whosoever does not accept my teaching will not arrive at blessedness. For it is God’s and not mine, therefore my judgment is God’s and not mine.” Such statements are aids to the understanding of his mode of thought, but there are other traits in his mental history relating to the confirmation of his Divine calling. Such, for instance, is his account of the miracles by which the flight of certain nuns from their convents was happily accomplished. The miracle which was wrought on behalf of the nun Florentina, and in confirmation of the new Evangel, is famous. Luther himself, in March, 1524, published the story according to the account given by the nun herself, and dedicated it to Count Mansfeld. Florentina of Upper-Weimar had been confided in early childhood to the convent of Neu-Helfta, at Eisleben, to be educated; later, after the regulation “year of probation,” she took the vows, probably without any real vocation. Having become acquainted with some of the writings of the Reformers, she entered into correspondence with Luther, and, one happy day in February, 1524, thanks to “visible, Divine assistance,” escaped from her fellow-nuns—who, so she alleged, had treated her cruelly—because, as she very naively remarks, The use of an argument so puerile, and Luther’s confident assumption of an extraordinary interference of Divine Omnipotence suspending the laws of nature (which is what a miracle amounts to), all this could only arouse painful surprise in the minds of those of his readers who were faithful to the Church. Luther was here the victim of a mystical delusion only to be accounted for by his dominant idea of his relation to God and the Church. When, in the same work, he goes on to tell his readers that: “God has certainly wrought many similar signs during the last three years, which shall be described in due season”; or that he merely recounted Florentina’s escape to Count Mansfeld as “a special warning from God” against the nunneries, which “God had made manifest in their own country,” we see still more plainly the extent and depth of his pseudo-mystical views concerning the miracles wrought on behalf of his Evangel. Concerning his own ability to work miracles, he is reticent and cautious. It is true that, to those who are ready to believe in him, he confidently promises God’s wonderful intervention should the need arise; the miraculous power, so far as it concerns himself, he represents, however, as bound by a wise economy, and, also, by his own desire of working merely through the Word. It should be noted of the statements to be quoted that they betray no trace of having been made in a jesting or rhetorical mood, but are, on the contrary, in the nature of theological arguments. In 1537, he declared: “I have frequently said that I never desired God to grant me the grace of working miracles, but Luther is even anxious not to have any signs. “I have besought the contrary of God,” i.e. that there should be no revelations or signs, so he writes in 1534, in the enlarged Commentary on Isaias, “in order that I may not be lifted up, or drawn away from the spoken Word, by the deceit of Satan.” That he believed the power to work miracles might be obtained of God may be inferred from many of his declarations against the fanatics, where he challenges them to prove themselves the messengers of God by signs and wonders; for whosoever is desirous of teaching something new or uncommon, he had said, must be “called by God and able to confirm his calling by real miracles,” otherwise let him pack up and go his way. Still, his confident tone brings him within measurable distance of volunteering to work miracles in support of his cause. “Although I have wrought no such sign such as perhaps we might work, should necessity arise,” etc. It is strange how Luther repeatedly falls back on Melanchthon’s recovery at Weimar in 1540. This eventually followed a visit of Luther to his friend, to encourage and pray for the sick man, whose health had completely broken down under the influence of melancholy. The same scholar adds, as another “remarkable example,” that that godly and upright man, Frederick Myconius, the first evangelical Superintendent at Gotha, had assured him before his death, that only thanks to Luther’s prayers had he been able to drag on his existence, notwithstanding his consumption, for six years, though in a state of “great weakness.” How does the case stand as regards the gift of prophecy, seeing that Luther apparently claims to have repeatedly made use of higher prophetic powers? On more than one occasion Luther declares that what he predicted usually came to pass, even adding, “This is no joke.” In the same way he often says quite seriously, that he would refrain from predicting this or that misfortune lest his words should be fulfilled. We see an instance of this sort in his circular-letter addressed, in February, 1539, to the preachers on the anticipated religious war. “I am a prophet of evil and do not willingly prophesy anything, for it generally comes to pass.” This he says in conversation when speaking of the wickedness of Duke George of Saxony. No wonder then that his enthusiastic disciples had many instances to relate of his “prophecies.” A casual reference of Luther’s to a seditious rising to be expected among the German nobility, is labelled in the MS. copy of Lauterbach’s “Tagebuch,” “Luther’s Prophecy concerning the rising of the German nobles.” Even J. G. Walch, We can understand his followers, in their enthusiasm, crediting him with a true gift of prophecy, but it is somewhat difficult to believe that he himself shared their conviction. Although the “What Luther, the new Elias and Paul, has prophesied cannot but come true,” writes a preacher in 1562, “and those who would doubt this are unbelieving and godless, Papists, Epicureans, Sodomites or fanatics. Everything has become so frightful and bestial, what with blasphemy, swearing, cursing, unchastity and adultery, usury, oppression of the poor and every other vice, that one might fancy the last trump was sounding for the Judgment. What else do the countless, hitherto unheard-of signs, wonders and visions indicate, but that Christ is about to come to judge and punish?” Luther was most diligent in collecting and making use of any prophetical utterances which might go to prove the exalted character of his mission. The supposed prophecy of Hus, that from his ashes would arise a swan whose voice it would be impossible to stifle, he coolly applied to himself. Luther had also learnt that a German Franciscan named Hilten, who died at Eisenach about the end of the fifteenth century, had predicted much concerning the destruction of monasticism, the shattering of Papal authority and the end of all things. So highly were Hilten’s alleged sayings esteemed in Luther’s immediate circle that Melanchthon placed one of them at the head of the Article (27) “On monastic vows,” in his theological defence of the Confession of Augsburg; “In 1516 a monk shall come, who will exterminate you monks; ... him will you not be able to resist.” In the widely read new edition of the book of Prophecies by Johann Lichtenberger, astrologer to the Emperor Frederick III. (1488), republished by Luther in 1527 with a new Preface, the latter’s ideas play a certain part. Luther did not regard these Prophecies as a “spiritual revelation”; they were merely astrological predictions, as he says in the Preface, During his stay at the Wartburg he had occasion to reflect on the ancient prophecy concerning an Emperor Frederick, who should redeem the Holy Sepulchre. He was inclined to see in this Frederick, his Elector, whose right hand he himself was. The difficulty that the Elector was not Emperor |