Hartmann Grisar

GLIMPSES OF A REFORMER’S MORALS

1. Luther’s Vocation. His Standard of Life

Reading the lives of great men really sent by God who did great things for the salvation of souls by their revelations and their labours, whether narrated in the Bible or in the history of the Christian Church, we find that, without exception, their standards were high, that they sought to convert those with whom they came in contact primarily by their own virtuous example, that their aim was to promote the spread of their principles and doctrines by honest, truthful and upright means, and that their actions bore the stamp, not of violence, but of peaceableness and charity towards all brother Christians.

Luther’s friends have always protested against his being compared with the Saints. Be their reason what it may, when it is a question of the moral appreciation of the founder of a religious movement everyone should be ready to admit, that such a founder must not present too great a contrast with those great harbingers of the faith in olden days whom he himself claims as his ideal, and in whose footsteps he pretends to tread. Luther is anxious to see St. Paul once more restored to his pinnacle; his doctrine he would fain re-establish. This being so, we may surely draw his attention to the character of St. Paul as it appears to us in his Epistles and in the Acts of the Apostles. St. Paul brought into this dark world a new light, unknown heretofore, which had been revealed to him together with his Divine calling. His vocation he fostered by heroic virtues, and by a purity of life free from all sensuality or frivolity, preaching with all the attraction conferred by sincerity and honesty of purpose, in words and deeds full of fire, indeed, yet at the same time breathing the most patient and considerate charity.

Although we may not exact from Luther all the virtues of a St. Paul, yet he cannot complain if his private life and his practice and theory of morals be compared with the sublime mission to which he laid claim. It is true, that, when confronted with such a critical test, he was accustomed to meet it with the assertion that his Evangel was unassailable whatever his life might be. This, however, must not deter us from applying the test in question, calmly and cautiously, with every precaution against infringing the truth of history and the claims of a just and unbiassed judgment which are his right even at the hands of those whose views are not his.

The following is merely an appreciation of some of the sides of his character, not a general conspectus of his morals. Such a conspectus will only become possible at the conclusion of our work. This we mention because in what follows we shall be considering almost exclusively Luther’s less favourable traits and ethical principles. It is unavoidable that we should consider here in this connection his own testimonies, and those of other witnesses, which militate against his Divine mission. His better points, both as man and writer, will be impartially pointed out elsewhere.

Luther himself admitted that Christ’s words: “By their fruits ye shall know them,” established a real standard for the teachers of the Gospel. He was familiar with the words of St. Bonaventure: “The sign of a call to the office of preacher is the healing of the hearers from the maladies of sin.”[488] He knew that the preacher’s virtue must be imparted to others, and that the sublimity and purity of his doctrine must be reflected in the amelioration of his followers.

A mere glance at Wittenberg at the time of the religious subversion will suffice to show how little such conditions were realised. Valentine Ickelsamer was referring to well-known facts when he confronted Luther with the words of Christ quoted above. He added: “You boast of holding the true doctrine on faith and charity and you shriek that men merely condemn the imperfections of your life.” He is here referring to Luther’s evasion. The latter had complained that people under-valued him and were scandalised at his life and that of his friends. In 1538, for instance, he was obliged, with the help of Jonas, Cruciger and Melanchthon, to dissociate himself from a theologian, Master George Karg, who had been advocating at Wittenberg doctrines which differed from his own; of him he wrote: “He is an inexperienced young man and, possibly, was scandalised at us personally in the first instance, and then fell away in his doctrine; for all those who have caused dissensions among us have begun by despising us personally.”[489]

Amongst the Catholic writers who pointed out to the Wittenberg professor that his lack of a Divine call or higher mission was proved by the visible absence of any special virtue, and by his behaviour as a teacher, we may mention the Franciscan Johann Findling (ApobolymÆus). In the beginning of 1521 the latter published an “admonition” addressed to Luther which relies chiefly on the reasons mentioned above.[490] In this anonymous writing the Franciscan deals so considerately with the monk, who was already then excommunicate, that recent Protestant writers have actually contrasted him with the “Popish zealots.”[491] Luther he terms his “beloved,” and is unwilling even to describe him as a “heretic,”[492] following in this the example of many other monks who showed the same scruple, probably on account of their own former vacillation. Excuses of various kinds are not wanting in Findling’s letter.

What is of interest in the present connection is the question the author sets before the originator of the schism in the following challenge: “If you are a prophet or seer sent by God to point out the truth to men, let us perceive this, that we may believe in you, approve your action and follow you. If what you preach and write is of Divine revelation, then we are ready to honour you as a messenger sent from heaven.... But it is written: ‘Believe not every spirit, but try the spirits if they be of God’ (1 John iv. 1).... We are unable to believe in you because so much strife, so many intrigues, insults, bitter reproaches, vituperation and abuse proceed from you.... Quarrels, blasphemies and enmities are, as St. Ambrose says, foreign to the ministers of God.”[493] Your acrimony, your vituperation, your calumny and abuse are such that one is forced to ask: “Where is your Christian spirit, or your Lutheran spirit, for, according to some, Lutheran means the same as Christian?” Has not Christ commanded: “Love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you? Certainly if prayer consists in calumny, abuse, detraction, reviling and cursing, then you pray excellently and effectually enough. Not one of all those I have ever read curses and abuses others as you do.”[494]

The writer also points out how Luther’s followers imitate and even outdo him; they were likewise turning his head by their praises; they sang hymns in his honour, but hymns coming from such lips were a poor tribute. Nor was the applause of the masses beyond suspicion, for it merely showed that what he wrote was to the taste of the multitude; for instance, when he blamed the authorities and cited them before his tribunal. It was his rude handling of his ghostly superiors which had brought the nobility and the knights to his side. Had he overwhelmed them and the laity with such reproaches as he had heaped upon the spiritual authorities, then “I know not whether you would still be in the land of the living.”[495]

Apart from his want of charity and his censoriousness, other very un-apostolic qualities of Luther’s were his pride and arrogance, his utter disdain for obedience, his irascibility, his jealousy and his want of seriousness in treating of the most important questions that concerned humanity; the childish, nay, womanish, outbursts in which notoriously he was wont to indulge could only serve to humble him in his own eyes.

Luther must have felt keenly the Franciscan’s allusions to his untruthfulness and evasiveness, more particularly in his conduct towards the Pope, whereas Holy Scripture expressly declares that “God has no need of a lie” (Job xiii. 7).

He concludes by saying, that if Luther “is a good and gentle disciple of Christ,” then he will not disregard this exhortation to turn back and recant.

Thus the Franciscan. It is to be feared, however, that Luther never read the letter to its end. As he himself said, he had nothing but scorn for anything that Catholic censors might say to him. “Attacks from without only serve to render me proud and arrogant, and you may see from my books how I despise my gainsayers; I look upon them as simple fools.”[496] His state of mind even then was such as to make him incapable of calmly weighing such reproofs. In the following sentences the Franciscan above referred to has aptly described Luther’s behaviour: Whoever allows himself to be overtaken by hatred and carried away by fury, “blots out the light of reason within himself and darkens his comprehension, so that he is no longer able to understand or judge aright. He rushes blindly through the surrounding fog and darkness, and knows not whither his steps will carry him. Many people, dearest Martin, believe you to be in this state.”[497] “In this condition of mental confusion you cannot fail to go astray; you will credit yourself with what is far beyond you and quite outside your power.”[498] In such a man eloquence was like a sword in the hand of a madman, as was sufficiently apparent in the case of Luther’s followers who attempted to emulate his zeal with the pen.[499]

Erasmus was another moderate critic. In the matter of Luther’s life, as was to be expected from one who had once praised him in this particular, as a rule he is inclined to be cautious, however unable to refrain from severely censuring his unevangelical manner of proceeding. The absence of the requisite standard of life seemed to Erasmus sufficient to disprove Luther’s claim to the possession of the Spirit of God and a higher mission. “You descend to calumny, abuse and threats and yet you wish to be esteemed free from guile, pure, and led by the Spirit of God, not by human passion.”[500] “Can the Evangel then be preached in so unevangelical a manner?” “Have all the laws of propriety been abrogated by the new-born Evangel, so that each one is at liberty to make use of any method of attack either in word or writing? Is this the liberty which you restore to us?”[501] He points more particularly to Luther’s demagogism as alien to the Christian spirit: “Your object is to raise revolt, and you are perfectly aware that this has often been the result of your writings. Not thus did the Apostles act. You drag our controversial questions before the tribunal of the unlearned.”[502] “God Almighty! What a contrast to the spirit of the Gospel!” exclaims Erasmus, referring to some of Luther’s abuse. “A hundred books written against him would not have alienated me from him so much as these insults.”[503]

Amongst the admonitions addressed to Luther at an early date by men of weight, that of Zaccaria Ferreri, the Papal Legate in Poland, written in 1520 and published in 1894, is particularly noteworthy. From the self-love and arrogance which he found displayed in Luther’s character he proves to him that his could not be the work of God: “Do open your eyes and see into what an abyss of delusion you are falling. You seem to fancy that you alone are in the sunlight and that all the rest of the world is seated in the darkness of night.... You reproach Christianity with groping about in error for more than a thousand years; in your madness you wish to appear wiser and better than all other mortals put together, to all of whom you send forth your challenge. Rest assured your opponents are not so dull-witted as not to see through your artfulness and to perceive the inconsistency and frivolity of your doctrines.” Ferreri also addressed the following appeal to Luther: “If you are determined to cast yourself into the abyss of death, at least take pity on the unfortunate people whom you are daily infecting with your poison, whose souls you are destroying and dragging along with you to perdition. The Almighty will one day require of you their blood which you have drunk, and their happiness which you have destroyed.”[504]

Such voices from the past help to make us alive to the importance of the question which forms the subject of the present section. Luther’s own ethical practice when defending the divinity of his mission, more particularly his doctrine of the forgiveness of sins, against all doubts and “temptations” which occurred to him, affords us, however, the best and clearest insight into his moral standards. Here his moral attitude appears in a most singular light.

We may preface what follows with some words of the Protestant historian Gottlieb Jacob Planck (†1833): “When it is necessary to lay bare Luther’s failings, an historian should blush to fancy that any excuse is required for so doing.”[505]

“Temptations” to doubt were not uncommon in Luther’s case and in that of his friends. He accordingly instructs his disciples to combat them and to regain their lost equanimity by the same method which he himself was in the habit of employing. Foremost amongst these instructions is one addressed to his pupil Hieronymus Weller of Molsdorf, a native of Freiberg, who, whilst at Wittenberg, had, under Luther’s influence, relinquished the study of the law for that of theology. He was received into Luther’s household as a boarder in 1527, and in 1535, after having secured his Doctorate of Theology, he was still resident there. He was one of the table-companions who took notes of Luther’s “Table-Talk.” This young man was long and grievously tormented with anxiety of mind and was unable to quiet, by means of the new Evangel, the scruples of conscience which were driving him to despair.

In 1530, Luther, writing from the Castle of Coburg, gave him the following counsel; we must bear in mind that it comes from one who was himself then struggling with the most acute mental anxiety.[506] “Sometimes it is necessary to drink more freely, to play and to jest and even to commit some sin (‘peccatum aliquod faciendum’) out of hatred and contempt for the devil, so that he may get no chance of making a matter of conscience out of mere trifles; otherwise we shall be vanquished if we are too anxious about not committing sin.... Oh that I could paint sin in a fair light,[507] so as to mock at the devil and make him see that I acknowledge no sin and am not conscious of having committed any! I tell you, we must put all the Ten Commandments, with which the devil tempts and plagues us so greatly, out of sight and out of mind. If the devil upbraids us with our sins and declares us to be deserving of death and hell, then we must say: ‘I confess that I have merited death and hell,’ but what then? Are you for that reason to be damned eternally? By no means. ‘I know One Who suffered and made satisfaction for me, viz. Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Where He is, there I also shall be.’”

Fell counsels such as these, to despise sin and to meet the temptation by sinning, Luther had certainly not learnt from the spiritual writers of the past. Such writers, more particularly those whom he professed to have read at his monastery, viz. Bernard, Bonaventure and Gerson, teach that sin must first be resisted, after which we may then seek prayerfully for the cause of the trouble; for this is not always due to the temptations of the devil, as Luther unquestioningly assumed in his own case and, consequently, also in that of Weller. If conscience was oppressed by sin, then, according to these spiritual writers, a remedy different from that suited to doubts against the faith must be applied, namely, penance, to be followed by acts of hope. If the trouble in Weller’s case was one of doubts concerning faith, anyone but Luther would have been careful to ascertain first of all whether these doubts referred to the specifically Lutheran doctrine or to the other truths of the Christian revelation. Luther, however, at the commencement of the letter, simply declares: “You must rest assured that this temptation comes from the devil, and that you are thus tortured because you believe in Christ”—i.e. in the Lutheran doctrine and in the Christ preached by that sect, as is clear from the reference immediately following to the “foes of the Evangel,” who live in security and good cheer.

The whole letter, though addressed to one standing on the brink of despair, contains not a single word about prayer for God’s help, about humbling oneself or striving after a change of heart. Beyond the above-mentioned reference to Christ, Who covers over all our sins, and to the need of contemning sin, we find merely the following natural, indeed, of the earth earthly, remedies recommended, viz.: To seek company, to indulge in jest and play, for instance, with Luther’s wife, ever to keep a good temper and, finally, “to drink more deeply.” “If the devil says, ‘Don’t drink,’ answer him at once: ‘Just because you don’t wish it, I shall drink, and deeply too.’ We must always do the opposite of what the devil bids. Why, think you, do I drink so much, converse so freely and give myself up so frequently to the pleasures of the table, if it be not in order to mock at the devil, and to plague him when he tries to torment and mock at me?”

Finally he encourages the sorely tried man by telling him how Staupitz had foretold that the temptations which he, Luther, endured in the monastery would help to make a great man of him, and that he had now, as a matter of fact, become a “great doctor.” “You, too,” he continues, “will become a great man, and rest assured that such [prophetic] words, particularly those that fall from the lips of great and learned men, are not without their value as oracles and predictions.”

It is not surprising that such counsels and the consolation of possible future greatness did not improve the pitiable condition of the unfortunate man, but that he long continued to suffer.

Of a like nature is the advice which Luther in the following year gave another of his boarders and companions, Johann Schlaginhaufen, as a remedy for the same malady, which indeed seems to have been endemic in his immediate circle. The passages in question, from Schlaginhaufen’s own notes, may be useful in further elucidating Luther’s instructions to Weller.

According to what we are told Luther spoke as follows to Schlaginhaufen on December 14, 1531, at a time when the latter had been reduced to despair owing to his sins and to his lack of the fiducial faith required by the new Evangel. “It is false that God hates sinners; if the devil reminds us of the chastisement of Sodom and other instances of God’s wrath, then let us confront him with Christ, Who became man for us. Had God hated sinners He would not have sent His own Son for us [here again not the slightest allusion to any effort after an inward change of heart, but merely what follows]: Those only does God hate who will not be justified, i.e. those who will not be sinners (‘qui non volunt esse peccatores’).”[508]

In these admonitions to Schlaginhaufen the consolatory thought of the merits of Christ, which alone can save us, occurs more frequently, though in a very Lutheran guise: “Why torment yourself so much about sin? Even had you as many sins on your conscience as Zwingli, Carlstadt, MÜnzer and all the ungodly, faith in Christ would overcome them all. Alas, faith is all that lacks us!” If the devil could reproach you with unbelief and such-like faults, says Luther, then it would be a different matter; but he does not worry us about the great sins of the first table, but about other sins; “he annoys us with mere trifles; if we would consent to worship the Pope, then we should be his dear children.”[509] “We must cling to the Man Who is called Christ, He will soon put right whatever we may have done amiss.”[510]

“So that at last I said,” Schlaginhaufen continues, “Then, Doctor, it would be better that I should remain a rogue and a sinner. And the Doctor replied: That Thou, O Lord, mayst be justified in Thy words, and mayst overcome when Thou art judged” (Ps. 1. 6).[511]

With this pupil, as with Weller, Luther enters into an account of his own temptations and the means he employed for ridding himself of them.

He himself, he says, in December, 1531, had often been made a target for the shafts of Satan. “About ten years ago I first experienced this despair and these temptations concerning the wrath of God. Afterwards I had some peace so that I enjoyed good days and even took a wife, but then the temptations returned again.”[512]

“I never had any temptation greater or more burdensome than that which assailed me on account of my preaching, when I thought: It is you alone who are bringing all this business about; if it is wrong, then you alone are accountable for so many souls which go down to hell. During such temptations I often went right down to hell, only that God called me back and strengthened me, because it was His Word and true doctrine. But it costs much before one can arrive at such comfort.”[513]

Here also he speaks of his remedy of a free indulgence in food and drink: “Were I to give in to my want of appetite, then I should [in this frame of mind] for three days eat not a scrap; it is a double fast to me to eat and drink without the least inclination. When the world sees this it looks upon it as drunkenness, but God shall judge whether it is drunkenness or fasting ... therefore keep stomach and head alike filled.”[514]

According to another communication of Luther’s to this pupil, he was in the habit of repelling the devil, when he troubled him too much about his sins, by cynical speeches on the subject of the evacuations. After one such statement the parish priest of Wittenberg, the apostate Bugenhagen, interrupted him, and, in perfect agreement with Luther, said, “I too would say to the devil: ‘My good devil, I have committed a great sin, for Pope and bishop anointed my hands and I have defiled them; that is also a great sin.’”[515] From such coarse speeches Schlaginhaufen passes on to relate other things which the veracious historian is not at liberty to suppress. The anxious pupil who was seeking consolation continues: “The Doctor [Luther] said: ‘Nevertheless, the devil was unable to get over my arguments. Often have I called my wife, et cetera, in order to allay the temptation and to free myself from such idle thoughts.’”[516]

What Luther, or rather Schlaginhaufen, merely hints at, we find explained in greater detail in the diary of Luther’s pupil Conrad Cordatus: “Thoughts of terror and sadness have worried me more than enemies and labours. In my attempts to drive them away I met with little success. I also tried caressing my wife in order that this distraction might free me from the suggestions of Satan; but in temptations such as these we can find no comfort, so greatly is our nature depraved. It is necessary, however, to make every kind of effort to banish these thoughts by some stronger emotion.”[517] One of the chief Latin versions of Luther’s Colloquies gives this passage in his “Table-Talk” as follows: “How often have I taken with my wife those liberties which nature permits merely in order to get rid of Satan’s temptations. Yet all to no purpose, for he refused to depart; for Satan, as the author of death, has depraved our nature to such an extent that we will not admit any consolation. Hence I advise everyone who is able to drive away these Satanic thoughts by diverting his mind, to do so, for instance, by thinking of a pretty girl, of money-making, or of drink, or, in fine, by means of some other vivid emotion. The chief means, however, is to think of Jesus Christ, for He comes to console and to make alive.”[518] The latter passage is to be found, with unimportant alterations, in Rebenstock’s edition of the Colloquies, though, perhaps out of consideration for Luther, it there commences with the words: “For Satan”;[519] in the German “Table-Talk” it is not found at all.[520]

“Let us fix our mind on other thoughts,” Luther had also said to Schlaginhaufen, “on thoughts of dancing, or of a pretty girl, that also is good. Gerson too wrote of this.”[521] As a matter of fact, Gerson certainly wrote nothing about getting rid of temptations by means of sensual images. On the contrary, in the passages in question of his spiritual writings, he teaches something quite different and insists, first and foremost, on the avoidance of sin. He proposes our doing the exact opposite of the wicked or unworthy acts suggested by the evil spirit. He, like all Catholic masters of the spiritual life, indeed instructs those tempted to distract their minds, but by pious, or at least, indifferent and harmless means.[522]

2. Some of Luther’s Practical Principles of Life

We find in Luther no dearth of strong expressions which, like his advice to Weller and Schlaginhaufen, seem to discountenance fear of sin, penance and any striving after virtue. It remains to determine from their context the precise meaning which he attached to them.

Luther on Sin

As early as 1518 Luther, in a sermon at Erfurt, had given vent to the words already quoted: “What does it matter whether we commit a fresh sin so long as we do not despair but repeat: Thou, my God, still livest, Christ, my Lord, has destroyed sin; then at once the sin is gone.... The reason why the world is so out of joint and lies in such error is that there has been no real preacher for so long.”[523]

“Hence we say,” so later on we read in his exposition of John xvii., “that those who are true Saints of Christ must be great sinners and yet remain Saints.... Of themselves, and for all their works, they are nothing but sinners and under condemnation, but by the holiness of another, viz. of the Lord Christ, bestowed on them by faith, they are made holy.”[524]

And further: “The Christian faith differs greatly from the faith and religion of the Pope and the Turks, etc., for, by it, in spite of his consciousness of sin, a man, amidst afflictions and the fear of death, continues to hope that God for Christ’s sake will not impute to him his sin.... But so great is this grace that a man is startled at it and finds it hard to believe.”[525]—He himself and many others often found it difficult, indeed terribly difficult, to believe. They were obliged to “reassure themselves” by the Word of God. A few more quotations may here be added.

“To be clean of heart not only means not to harbour any impure thoughts, but that the conscience has been enlightened and assured by the Word of God that the law does not defile; hence the Christian must understand that it does not harm him whether he keeps it [the law] or not; nay, he may even do what is otherwise forbidden, or leave undone what is usually commanded; it is no sin in him, for he is incapable of sinning because his heart is clean. On the other hand, an impure heart defiles itself and sins in everything because it is choked with law.”[526]

“God says in the law: Do this, leave that undone, this do I require of thee. But the Evangel does not preach what we are to do or to leave undone, it requires nothing of us. On the contrary. It does not say: Do this or that, but only tells us to hold out our hands and take: Behold, O man, what God has done for thee; He has caused His own Son to take flesh for thee, has allowed Him to be done to death for thy sake, and to save thee from sin, death and the devil; believe this and accept it and thou shalt be saved.”[527]

Such statements, which must not be regarded as spoken merely on the spur of the moment, rest on the idea that sin only troubles the man who looks to the law; let us look rather to the Gospel, which is nothing but grace, and simply cover over our sin by a firm faith in Christ, then it will not harm us in any way. Yet it would be quite a mistake to infer from this that Luther always regarded sin with indifference, or that he even recommended it on principle; as a rule he did not go so far as we just saw him do (p. 175 ff.) in his exhortations to persons tempted; there, moreover, his invitation to commit sin, and his other misplaced instructions, may possibly be explained by the excitement of the hand-to-hand struggle with the devil, in which he fancied himself to be engaged whenever he had to do with doubts concerning his doctrines, or with souls showing signs of halting or of despair. On the contrary, he teaches, as a rule, that sin is reprehensible; he also instructs man to fight against concupiscence which leads up to it. (Vol. i., p. 114 f.) He is fond of exhorting to amendment of life and to avoid any scandal. Still, the barriers admitted by his doctrine of Justification against this indifference with regard to sin were not strong enough.[528]

As to Luther’s teaching on the manner in which sin was forgiven, we shall merely state his ideas on this subject, without attempting to bring them into harmony; the fact is that, in Luther’s case, we must resign ourselves to a certain want of sequence.

He teaches: “Real faith is incompatible with any sin whatsoever; whoever is a believer must resist sinful lusts by the power and the impulse of the faith and Spirit.”[529] “Whoever has faith in the forgiveness of sins does not obey sinful lusts, but fights against them until he is rid of them.”[530] Where mortal sin has been committed, there, according to him, real faith was manifestly lacking; it had already been denied and was no longer active, or even present. A revival of faith, together with the necessary qualities of confidence, covers over all such sins, including the sin of unbelief. On the other hand, sins committed where faith was present, though for the moment too weak to offer resistance, were sins of frailty; there faith at once regains the upper hand and thus forgiveness or non-imputation of the sin is secured. The denial of Peter was, according to Luther, a sin of frailty, because it was merely due to “chance weakness and foolishness.” Nevertheless he declares that, like the treason of Judas, it was deserving of death.[531]

Luther teaches further, affording us incidentally an insight into the inadequacy of his doctrine from another point of view, that, in the case of the heathen or of Christians who had no faith, not only was every sin a mortal sin, but also all works, even good works, were mortal sins; indeed, they would be so even in the faithful, were it not for Christ, the Redeemer, Whom we must cling to with confidence. Moreover, as we know, man’s evil inclinations, the motions of concupiscence, the bad tendencies of the pious, were all grievous sins in Luther’s eyes; original sin with its involuntary effects he considers an enduring offence; only faith, which merits forgiveness and overcomes the terrors of conscience by the saving knowledge of Christ, can ensure man against it, and the other sins.

“Thus our salvation or rejection depends entirely on whether we believe or do not believe in Christ.... Unbelief retains all sin, so that it cannot be forgiven, just as faith cancels all sin; hence outside of such faith everything is and remains sinful and worthy of damnation, even the best of lives, and the best of works.... In faith a Christian’s life and works are pleasing to God, outside of Christ everything is lost and doomed to perdition; in Christ all is good and blessed, so that even the sin which flesh and blood inherits from Adam is neither a cause of harm nor of condemnation.” “This, however, is not to be understood as a permit to sin and to commit evil; for since faith brings forgiveness of sin ... it is impossible that he who lives openly unrepentant and secure in his sins and lusts should be a Christian and a believer.”[532] In conclusion he explains to what category of hearers he is speaking: “To them [the faithful] this is said, in order that sin may not harm nor condemn them; to the others, who are without faith and reprobate, we do not preach.”[533] Amongst the numerous other questions which here force themselves upon us, one is, why Luther did not address his Evangel to those “without faith,” and to the “reprobate,” according to the example of Christ.[534]

The fanatics, particularly Carlstadt, were not slow in attacking Luther on account of his doctrine of faith alone. Carlstadt described this “faith” of Luther’s as a “paper faith” and a “heartless faith.” He perceived the “dangers to the interior life which might arise from the stress laid on faith alone, viz. the enfeebling of the moral powers and the growth of formalism.”[535] The modern Protestant biographer of Carlstadt, from whom these words are taken, points out that “moral laxity too often went hand-in-hand with Luther’s doctrine of the forgiveness of sins.”[536] “Owing to an assiduous depreciation of the moral code no criterion existed according to which the direction of the impulses of the will could be determined, according to Luther’s doctrine of Justification.”[537] The Lutheran teaching was “admirably adapted to suit the life of the individual,” but the moral laxity which followed in its train “could not be considered as merely an exceptional phenomenon.”[538] There is no doubt that “much dross came to the surface when ‘faith only’ was applied to the forgiveness of sins.”[539]

A Protestant theologian, A. Hegler, one of those who demur to Luther’s doctrines, mentioned above, owing to their moral consequences, remarks: “It remains that the idea of justification without works was, at the time of the Reformation, often found side by side with moral laxity, and that, sometimes, the latter was actually the effect of the former.” Seeking the reason why so talented a man as Sebastian Franck should have seceded, after having been a Lutheran preacher till 1528, he remarks: “There is much to lead us to suppose that the sight of the moral indifference and coarseness of the evangelicals was the determining factor.”[540]

After having considered Luther’s principles with regard to the theory of sin, we now proceed to give some of his utterances on penance.

Luther’s Views on Penance

Although he speaks of repentance as the first step towards salvation in the case of the sinner, yet the idea of repentance, remorse or contrition was ever rather foreign to him. He will not admit as valid any repentance aroused by the demands and menaces of the law;[541] in the case of man, devoid of free will, it must be a result of Divine charity and grace; repentance without a love of justice is, he says, at secret enmity with God and only makes the sin greater.[542] Yet he also declares, not indeed as advocating penance as such, that it merely acts through faith “previous to and independently of all works,” of which, as we know, he was always suspicious; all that was needed was to believe “in God’s Mercy,” and repentance was already there.[543]

He is nevertheless in favour of the preachers exhorting Christians to repentance by diligent reference to the commandments, and to the chastisements threatened by God, so as to instil into them a salutary fear. The law, he goes on to say, in contradiction to the above, must do its work, and by means of its terrors drive men to repentance even though love should have no part in it. Here he is perfectly conscious of the objection which might be raised, viz. that he had made “repentance to proceed from, and to be the result of, justifying faith.” To this he replies, that repentance itself forms part of the “common faith,” because it is first necessary to believe that there is a God Who commands and makes afraid; this circumstance justifies the retention of penance, “for the sake of the common, unlearned folk.”[544]

The Catholic Church, on the other hand, formulates her doctrine of penance and regeneration, for the most cultured as well as for the “common and unlearned,” in terms simple and comprehensible, and in perfect accord with both Scripture and theology: Adults “are prepared for justification, when, moved and assisted by Divine grace ... they, of their free will, turn to God, believing that those things are true which have been Divinely revealed and promised; above all, that the ungodly is justified by God’s grace and by the redemption which is in Christ Jesus; recognising with a wholesome fear of the Divine Justice their sinfulness, they turn to God’s mercy, and, being thus established in hope, gain the confidence that God, for Christ’s sake, will be gracious to them. Thus they begin to love God as the source of all justice and to conceive a certain hatred (‘odium aliquod’) and detestation for sin, i.e. to perform that penance which must take place previous to baptism. Finally, they must have the intention of receiving baptism, of commencing a new life and of observing the commandments of God.”[545] “Those who, after having received the grace of justification, fall into sin [’without loss of faith’],[546] with God’s help may again be justified, regaining through the Sacrament of Penance and Christ’s merits the grace they had lost.... Christ Jesus instituted the Sacrament of Penance when He said: ‘Receive ye the Holy Ghost: whose sins ye shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins ye shall retain, they are retained.’ Hence we must teach that the repentance of a sinner after falling into sin is very different from that which accompanies baptism, and involves not merely a turning away from, and a detestation for, sin, or a contrite and humble heart, but also a Sacramental confession of the sin, or at least a purpose of making such a confession in due season, and receiving the priestly absolution; finally, it involves satisfaction by fasting, almsdeeds, prayer and other pious exercises.”[547]

Such, according to the Catholic doctrine, is the process approved of by Holy Scripture, the various phases of which rest alike on religion and psychology, on the positive ordinances of God and on human nature. Luther, however, thrust all this aside; his quest was for a simpler and easier method, through faith alone, by which sin may be vanquished or covered over.

His moral character, so far as it reveals itself in his teaching, is here displayed in an unfavourable light, for he is never weary of emphasising the ease with which sin can be covered over—and that in language which must necessarily have had a bad effect on discipline—when we might have expected to hear some earnest words on penance. A few of his sayings will help to make yet clearer his earlier statements.

“You see how rich the Christian is,” he says, “since, even should he desire it, he is unable to forfeit his salvation, no matter how many sins he may commit, unless indeed he refuses to believe (‘nisi nolit credere’). No sin but unbelief can bring him to damnation; everything else is at once swept away by this faith, so soon as he returns to it, or recollects the Divine promise made to the baptised.”[548]

“Christ’s Evangel is indeed a mighty thing.... God’s Word brings everything to pass speedily, bestows forgiveness of sins and the gift of eternal life; and the cost of this is merely that you should hear the Word, and after hearing it believe. If you believe, then you possess it without any trouble, expense, delay or difficulty.”[549]

“No other sin exists in the world save unbelief. All others are mere trifles, as when my little Hans or Lena misbehave themselves in the corner, for we all take that as a big joke. In the same way faith covers the stench of our filth before God.... All sins shall be forgiven us if only we believe in the Son.”[550]

“As I have often said, the Kingdom of Christ is nothing else but forgiveness and perpetual blotting out of sin, which is extinguished, covered over, swept away and made clean while we are living here.” “Christ makes things so easy for us who stand before God in fear and trembling.”[551]

“Summa summarum: Our life is one long ‘remissio peccatorum,’ and forgiveness of sin, otherwise it could not endure.”[552]

Here, indeed, we have one of the main props of Luther’s practical theology. To this the originator of the doctrine sought to remain faithful to the very end of his life, whereas certain other points of his teaching he was not unwilling to revise. His ideas on sin and repentance had sprung originally from his desire to relieve his own conscience,[553] and, of this, they ever retained the mark. The words and doctrine of a teacher are the best witnesses we have to his moral character, and here the doctrine is one which affords but little stimulus to virtue and Christian perfection, but rather the reverse.

In what follows we shall consider more closely the relation between this doctrine and the effort after virtue, while at the same time taking into account that passivity, nay, entire unfreedom of the will for doing what is good, proclaimed by Luther.

Luther on Efforts after Higher Virtue.

The effort to attain perfection and to become like to Christ, which is the highest aim of the Christian, is scarcely promoted by making the whole Gospel to consist merely in the happy enjoyment of forgiveness. The hard work required for the building up of a truly virtuous life on the rude soil of the world, necessarily involving sacrifice, self-denial, humiliation and cheerful endurance of suffering, was more likely to be looked at askance and carefully avoided by those who clung to such a view.

On the pretext of opposing the “false humility of the holy-by-works,” Luther attacks many practices which have always been dear to pious souls striving after God. At the same time he unjustly implies that the Catholics made holiness to consist merely in extraordinary works, performed, moreover, by human strength alone, without the assistance of grace. “This all comes from the same old craze,” he declares;[554] “as soon as we hear of holiness we immediately think of great and excellent works and stand gaping at the Saints in heaven as though they had got there by their own merits. What we say is that the Saints must be good, downright sinners.” (See above, p. 180.) “The most holy state is that of those who believe that Christ alone is our holiness, and that by virtue of His holiness, as already stated, everything about us, our life and actions, are holy, just as the person too is holy.”[555]

After this, who can contend that Luther sets before the world the sublime and arduous ideal of a life of virtue such as has ever been cherished by souls inflamed with the love of Christ? To rest content with a standard so low is indeed to clip the wings of virtue. This is in no way compensated for by Luther’s fervent exhortations to the Christian, “to confess the Word, more particularly in temptation and persecution,” because true and exalted virtue was present wherever there was conflict on behalf of the Word [as preached by him], or by his asseveration, that “where the Word is and brings forth fruit so that men are willing to suffer what must be suffered for it, there indeed we have living Saints.” Living Saints? Surely canonisation is here granted all too easily. Nor does Luther make good the deficiencies of his teaching, by depriving good works of any merit for heaven, or by requiring that they should be performed purely out of love of God, without the least thought of reward. He thereby robs the practice of good works of a powerful stimulus, as much in conformity with the Will of God as with human nature. He is too ready here to assume that the faithful are angels, raised above all incentive arising from the hope of reward, though, elsewhere, he looks upon men only too much as of the earth earthly.

At any rate he teaches that good works spring spontaneously from the faith by which man is justified, and that the outcome is a life of grace in which the faithful has every incentive to the performance of his duty and to works of charity towards his neighbour. He also knows how to depict such spontaneous, practical efforts on the part of the righteous in attractive colours and with great feeling. Passages of striking beauty have already been quoted above from his writings. Too often, as he himself complains, such good works are conspicuous by their absence among the followers of the evangelical faith; he is disappointed to see that the new teaching on faith serves only to engender lazy hearts. Yet this was but natural; nature cannot be overcome even in the man who is justified without an effort on his part; without exertion, self-sacrifice, self-conquest and prayer no one can make any progress and become better pleasing to God; not holiness-by-works, but the sanctifying of our works, is the point to be aimed at, and, for this purpose, Holy Scripture recommends no mere presumptuous, fiducial faith as the starting-point, but rather a pious fear of God, combined with a holy life; no mere reliance on a misapprehension of the freedom of the children of God, but rather severe self-discipline, watchfulness and mortification of the whole man, who, freely and of his own accord, must make himself the image of his crucified Saviour. Those of Luther’s followers who, to their honour, succeeded in so doing, did so, and were cheered and comforted, not by following their leader’s teaching, but by the grace of God which assists every man.

We must, however, refer to another point of importance already once discussed. Why speak at all of good works and virtue, when Luther’s doctrine of the passivity and unfreedom of the will denies the existence of all liberty as regards either virtue or sin? (See vol. ii., p. 223 ff.)

Luther’s doctrine of Justifying Faith is closely bound up with his theories on the absence of free will, man’s inability to what do is good, and the total depravity of human nature resulting from original sin. In his “De servo arbitrio” against Erasmus, Luther deliberately makes the absence of free will the basis of his view of life.

Deprived of any power of choice or self-determination, man is at the mercy of external agents, diabolical or Divine, to such an extent that he is unable to will except what they will. Whoever has and keeps the Spirit of God and the faith cannot do otherwise than fulfil the Will of God; but whoever is under the domination of the devil is his spiritual captive. To sum up what was said previously: man retains at most the right to dispose of things inferior to him, not, however, any actual, moral freedom of choice, still less any liberty for doing what is good such as would exclude all interior compulsion. He is created for eternal death or for everlasting life; his destiny he cannot escape; his lot is already pre-ordained. Luther’s doctrine brings him into line, even as regards the “harshest consequences of the predestinarian dogma, with Zwingli, Calvin, and Melanchthon in his earliest evangelical Theology.”[556] According to one of the most esteemed of Lutheran theologians, “what finds full and comprehensive expression in the work ‘De servo arbitrio’ is simply the conviction which had inspired Luther throughout his struggle for his pet doctrine of salvation, viz. the doctrine of the pure grace of God as against the prevailing doctrine of free will and man’s own works.”[557] According to this theory, in spite of the lack of free will, God requires of man that he should keep the moral law, and, to encourage him, sets up a system of rewards and punishments. Man is constrained to this as it were in mockery, that, as Luther says, God may make him to realise his utter powerlessness.[558] God indeed deplores the spiritual ruin of His people—this much the author is willing to allow to his opponent Erasmus—but, the God Who does so is the God of revelation, not the Hidden God. “The God Who conceals Himself beneath His Majesty grieves not at man’s undoing, He takes no step to remedy it, but works all things, both life and death.” God, “by that unsearchable knowledge of His, wills the death of the sinner.”[559]

“Even though Judas acted of his own will and without compulsion, still his willing was the work of God, Who moved him by His Omnipotence as He moves all things.”[560] In the same way, according to Luther, the hardening of Pharao’s heart was in the fullest sense God’s work.[561] Adam’s sin likewise is to be traced back to the Will of God.[562] We must not ask, however, how all this can be reconciled with the goodness and justice of God. We must not expect God to act according to human law.[563]

It was necessary to recall the above in order to show how such a doctrine robs the moral law of every inward relation to its last end, and degrades it till it becomes a mere outward, arbitrary barrier. Luther may well thank his want of logic that this system failed to be carried to its extremest consequences; the ways of the world are not those of the logician.

Who but God can be held responsible in the last instance for the world being, as Luther complains, the “dwelling-place” of the devil, and his very kingdom? According to him the devil is its “Prince and God”;[564] every place is packed with devils.[565] Indeed, “the whole world is Satanic and to a certain extent identified with Satan.”[566] “In such a kingdom all the children of Adam are subject to their lord and king, i.e. the devil.”[567] Such descriptions given by Luther are often so vivid that one might fancy the devil was making war upon God almost like some independent power. Luther, however, admits that the devil has “only a semblance of the Godhead, and that God has reserved to Himself the true Godhead.”[568] Ethically the consequence of such a view of the world is a pessimism calculated to lame both the powers and the desires of anyone striving after higher aims.

Luther’s pessimism goes so far, that too often he is ready to believe that, unlike the devil, Christ loves “to show Himself weak” in man. He writes, for instance, that Satan desired to drag him in his toils down into the abyss, but that the “weak Christ” was ever victorious, or at least “fighting bravely.”[569] That it was possible for Christ to be overcome he would not have allowed, yet, surely, an excuse might have been sought for man’s failings in Christ’s own “weakness,” particularly if man is really devoid of free will for doing what is good.

Luther was always fond of imputing weaknesses and sins to the Saints. Their works he regarded as detracting from the Redemption and the Grace of Christ, which can be appropriated only by faith. Certain virtues manifested by the Saints and their heroic sacrifices Luther denounced as illusions, as morally impossible and as mere idolatry.

By his “articulus remissionis,” the constantly reiterated Evangel of the forgiveness of sins by faith, Luther certainly succeeded in putting down the mighty from their seats, but whether he inspired the lowly to qualify for their possession is quite another question.

On the unsafe ground of the assurance of salvation by faith alone even the fanatics were unwilling to stand; their preference was for a certain interior satisfaction to be secured by means of works. Hence they and their teaching—to tell the truth a very unsatisfactory one—became a target for Luther’s sarcasm. By a pretence of strict morals they would fain give the lie to the words of the Our Father, “Forgive us our trespasses”; “but we are determined not to make the Our Father untrue, nor to reject this article (the ‘remissio peccatorum’), but to retain it as our most precious treasure, in which lies our safety and salvation.”[575] An over-zealous pursuit of sanctity and the works of the Spirit might end by detracting from a trusting reliance upon Christ. In Catholic times, for instance, the two things, works and faith, had, so he complains, been “hopelessly mixed.” “This, from the beginning until this very day, has been a stumbling-block and hindrance to the new doctrine of faith. If we preach works, then an end is made of faith; hence, if we teach faith, works must go to the wall.”[576]

We must repeat, that, by this, Luther did not mean to exclude works; on the contrary, he frequently counsels their performance. He left behind him many instructions concerning the practice of a devout life, of which we shall have to speak more fully later. On the other hand, however, we can understand how, on one occasion, he refused to draw up a Christian Rule of Life, though requested to do so by his friend Bugenhagen, arguing that such a thing was superfluous. We can well understand his difficulty, for how could he compile a rule for the promotion of practical virtue when he was at the same time indefatigable in condemning the monkish practices of prayer and meditation, pious observances and penitential exercises, as mere formalities and outgrowths of the theory of holiness-by-works? It was quite in keeping with his leading idea, and his hatred of works, that he should stigmatise the whole outward structure of the Christian life known hitherto as a mere “service of imposture.”

“Christ has become to all of us a cloak for our shame.”[577]

“Our life and all our doings must not have the honour and glory of making us children of God and obtaining for us forgiveness of sins and everlasting life. What is necessary is that you should hear Christ saying to you: ‘Good morning, dear brother, in Me behold your sin and death vanquished.’ The law has already been fulfilled, viz. by Christ, so that it is not necessary to fulfil it, but only to hang it by faith around Him who fulfils it, and to become like Him.”[578]

“This is the Evangel that brings help and salvation to the conscience in despair.... The law with its demands had disheartened, nay, almost slain it, but now comes this sweet and joyful message.”[579]

“Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe more boldly still.”[580]

Luther’s “Pecca fortiter.”

In what has gone before, that we might the better see how Luther’s standard of life compared with his claim to a higher calling, we have reviewed in succession his advice and conduct with regard to one of the principal moral questions of the Christian life, viz. how one is to behave when tempted to despondency and to despair of one’s salvation; further, his attitude—theoretical and practical—towards sin, penance and the higher tasks and exercises of Christian virtue. On each several point the ethical defects of his system came to light, in spite of all his efforts to conceal them by appealing to the true freedom of the Christian, to the difference between the law and the Gospel, or to the power of faith in the merits of Christ.

On glancing back at what has been said, we can readily understand why those Catholic contemporaries, who took up the pen against Luther and his followers, directed their attacks by preference on these points of practical morality.

Johann Fabri (i.e. Schmidt) of Heilbronn, who filled the office of preacher at Augsburg Cathedral until he was forced to vacate the pulpit owing to the prohibition issued by the Magistrates against Catholic preaching in 1534, wrote at a later date, in 1553, in his work “The Right Way,” of Luther and those preachers who shared his point of view: “The sweet, sugary preachers who encourage the people in their wickedness say: The Lord has suffered for us, good works are unclean and sinful, a good, pious and honest life with fasting, etc., is mere Popery and hypocrisy, the Lord has merited heaven for us and our goodness is all worthless. These and such-like are the sweet, sugary words they preach, crying: Peace, Peace! Heaven has been thrown open, only believe and you are already justified and heirs of heaven. Thus wickedness gets the upper hand, and those things which draw down upon us the wrath of God and rob us of eternal life are regarded as no sin at all. But the end shall prove whether the doctrine is of God, as the fruit shows whether the tree is good. What terror and distress has been caused in Germany by those who boast of the new Gospel it is easier to bewail than to describe. Ungodliness, horrible sins and vices hold the field; greater and more terrible evil, fear and distress have never before been heard of, let alone seen in Germany.”[581]

Matthias Sittardus, from the little town of Sittard in the Duchy of JÜlich, a zealous and energetic worker at Aachen, wrote as follows of Luther’s exhortations quoted above: “The result is that men say, What does sin matter? Christ took it away on the cross; the evil that I do—for I must sin and cannot avoid it—He is ready to bear; He will answer for it and refrain from imputing it to me; I have only to believe and off it goes like a flash. Good works have actually become a reproach and are exposed to contempt and abuse.”[582]—Elsewhere he laments, that “there is much glorying in and boasting of faith,” but of “good works and actions little” is seen.[583]

Alluding to man’s unfreedom for doing what is good, as advocated by Luther, Johann Mensing, a scholarly and busy popular writer, says: “They [the preachers] call God a sinner and maintain that God does all our sins in us. And when they have sinned most grievously they argue that such was God’s Will, and that they could do nothing but by God’s Will. They look upon the treachery of Judas, the adultery of David and Peter’s denial as being simply the work of God, just as much as the best of good deeds.”[584]

The words quoted above: “Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe more boldly still,” are Luther’s own.

In the above-mentioned letter to Melanchthon, in which Luther expresses his contempt for sin by the words “Pecca fortiter,” he is not only encouraging his friend with regard to possible sins of the past, but is also thinking of temptations in the future. His advice is: Sin boldly and fearlessly—whereas what one would have expected would have been: Should you fall, don’t despair. The underlying idea is: No sin is so detestable as to affright the believer, which is further explained by the wanton phrase: “even should we commit fornication or murder thousands and thousands of times a day.”

However much stress we may be disposed to lay on Luther’s warnings against sin, and whatever allowance we may make for his rhetoric, still the “Pecca fortiter” stands out as the result of his revolt against the traditional view of sin and grace, with which his own doctrine of Justification refused to be reconciled. These inauspicious words are the culmination of Luther’s practical ideas on religion, borne witness to by so many of his statements, which, at the cost of morality, give the reins to human freedom and to disorder. Such was the state of mind induced in him by the spirits of the Wartburg, such the enthusiasm which followed his “spiritual baptism” on his “Patmos,” that isle of sublime revelations.

Such is the defiance involved in the famous saying that an impartial critic, Johann Adam MÖhler, in his “Symbolism” says: “Although too much stress must not be laid on the passage, seeing how overwrought and excited the author was, yet it is characteristic enough and important from the point of view of the history of dogma.”[589] G. Barge, in his Life of Carlstadt, says, that Luther in his letter to Melanchthon had reduced “his doctrine of Justification by faith alone to the baldest possible formula.”[590] “If Catholic research continues to make this [the ‘Pecca fortiter’] its point of attack, we must honestly admit that there is reason in its choice.”

3. Luther’s Admissions Concerning His own Practice of Virtue

St. Paul, the far-seeing Apostle of the Gentiles, says of the ethical effects of the Gospel and of faith: “Those who are Christ’s have crucified their flesh with the lusts thereof. If we live in the Spirit let us also walk in the Spirit.” He instances as the fruits of the Spirit: “Patience, longanimity, goodness, benignity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity” (Gal. v. 22 ff.). Amongst the qualities which must adorn a teacher and guide of the faithful he instances to Timothy the following: “It behoveth him to be blameless, sober, prudent, of good behaviour, chaste, no striker, not quarrelsome; he must have a good testimony of them that are without, holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience” (1 Tim. iii. 2 ff.). Finally he sums up all in the exhortation: “Be thou an example to the faithful in word, in conversation, in charity, in faith, in chastity” (ibid., iv. 12).

It seems not unjust to expect of Luther that his standard of life should be all the higher, since, in opposition to all the teachers of his day and of bygone ages, and whilst professing to preach nought but the doctrine of Christ, he had set up a new system, not merely of faith, but also of morals. At the very least the power of his Evangel should have manifested itself in his own person in an exceptional manner.

How far was this the case? What was the opinion of his contemporaries and what was his own?

Catholics were naturally ever disposed to judge Luther’s conduct from a standpoint different from that of Luther’s own followers. A Catholic, devoted to his Church, regarded as his greatest blemish the conceit of the heresiarch and devastator of the fold; to him it seemed intolerable that a disobedient and rebellious son of the Church should display such pride as to set himself above her and the belief of antiquity and should attack her so hatefully. As for his morality, his sacrilegious marriage with a virgin dedicated to God, his incessant attacks upon celibacy and religious vows, and his seducing of countless souls to break their most sacred promises, were naturally sufficient to debase him in the eyes of most Catholics.

There were, however, certain questions which both Catholics and Lutherans could ask and answer impartially: Did Luther possess in any eminent degree the fiducial faith which he represented as so essential? Did this faith produce in him those fruits he extols as its spontaneous result, above all a glad heart at peace with God and man? Further: How far did he himself come up even to that comparatively low standard to which, theoretically, he reduced Christian perfection?

If we seek from Luther’s own lips an estimate of his virtues, we shall hear from him many frank statements on the subject.

The first place belongs to what he says of his faith and personal assurance of salvation.

Of faith, he wrote to Melanchthon, who was tormented with doubts and uncertainty: “To you and to us all may God give an increase of faith.... If we have no faith in us, why not at least comfort ourselves with the faith that is in others? For there must needs be others who believe instead of us, otherwise there would be no Church left in the world, and Christ would have ceased to be with us till the end of time. If He is not with us, where then is He in the world?”[596]

He complains so frequently of the weakness of his own faith that we are vividly reminded how greatly he himself stood in need of the “consolation” of dwelling on the faith that was in others. He never, it is true, attributes to himself actual unbelief, or a wilful abandon of trust in the promises of Christ, yet he does speak in strangely forcible terms—and with no mere assumed humility or modesty—of the weakness of this faith and of the inconstancy of his trust.

Before passing on to some of Luther’s statements concerning the consonance of his life with faith, we may remark that there is no lack of creditable passages in his writings on the conforming of ethics to faith. Although here our task is not to depict in its entirety the morality of Luther and his doctrine, but merely to furnish an historical answer to the question whether there existed in him elements which rendered his claim to a higher mission incredible, still we must not forget his many praiseworthy exhortations to virtue, intended, moreover, not merely for others, but also for himself.

That the devil must be resisted and that his tricks and temptations lead to what is evil, has been insisted upon by few preachers so frequently as by Luther, who in almost every address, every chapter of his works, and every letter treats of the sinister power of the devil. Another favourite, more positive theme of his discourses, whether to the members of his household or to the larger circle of the public, was the domestic virtues and the cheerful carrying out of the duties of one’s calling. He was also fond, in the sermons he was so indefatigable in preaching, of bringing home to those oppressed with the burden of life’s troubles the consolation of certain evangelical truths, and of breaking the bread of the Word to the little ones and the unlearned. With the utmost earnestness he sought to awaken trust in God, resignation to His Providence, hope in His Mercy and Bounty and the confession of our own weakness. One idea on which he was particularly fond of lingering, was, that we must pray because we depend entirely upon God, and that we must put aside all confidence in ourselves in order that we may be filled with His Grace.

Unfortunately such thoughts too often brought him back to his own pet views of man’s passivity and absence of free will and the all-effecting power of God. “The game is always won,” he cries, “and if it is won there is no longer any pain or trouble more; there is no need to struggle and fight, for all has already been accomplished.”[613] “Christ, the Conqueror, has done all, so that there is nothing left for us to do, to root out sin, to slay the devil or to overcome death; they all have been trampled to the ground.... The doing was not, however, our work.”[614]—“The Christian’s work is to sleep and do nothing”; thus does he sum up in one of his sermons the exhortations he had previously given to rest altogether on the merits of Christ; even should a man “fall into sin and be up to the neck in it, let him remember that Christ is no taker, but a most gracious giver”; this is “a very sweet and cheering doctrine; others, it is true, teach that you must do so much for sin, must live in this or that way, since God must be paid to the last farthing before you can appear before Him. Such people make of God a torturer and taskmaster.”[615] After having recommended prayer he inveighs against what he calls its abuse: “They say: I will pray until God gives me His Grace; but nothing comes of it, because God says to them: You cannot and never will be able to do anything; but I shall do everything.” “Everything through Christ: through works, nothing whatever.”[616]

Luther has some remarkable admissions to make, particularly in his private utterances, concerning the manner in which he himself and his chosen circle lived their faith.

“I cannot express in words what great pains I took in the Papacy to be righteous. Now, however, I have ceased entirely to be careful, because I have come to the insight and belief that another has become righteous before God in my stead.”[617]

“My doctrine stands whatever [my] life may be.”[618]

“Let us stick to the true Word that the seat of Moses may be ours. Even should our manner of life not be altogether polished and perfect, yet God is merciful; the laity, however, hate us.”[619]

“Neither would it be a good thing were we to do all that God commands, for in that case He would be cheated of His Godhead, and the Our Father, faith, the article of the forgiveness of sins, etc., would all go to ruin. God would be made a liar. He would no longer be the one and only truth, and every man would not be a liar [as Scripture says]. Should any man say: ‘If this is so, God will be but little served on earth’ [I reply]: He is accustomed to that; He wills to be, and is, a God of great mercy.”[620]

“I want to hand over a downright sinner to the Judgment Seat of our Lord God; for though I myself may not have actually been guilty of adultery, still that has not been for lack of good-will.”[621]—The latter phrase was a saying of the populace, and does not in the least mean that he ever really had the intention of committing the sin.

“I confess of myself,” he says in a sermon in 1532, “and doubtless others must admit the same [of themselves], that I lack the diligence and earnestness of which really I ought to have much more than formerly; that I am much more careless than I was under the Papacy; and that now, under the Evangel, there is nowhere the same zeal to be found as before.” This he declares to be due to the devil and to people’s carelessness, but not to his teaching.[622]

On other occasions he admits of his party as a whole, more particularly of its leaders, viz. the theologians and Princes, that they fell more or less short of what was required for a Christian life; among them he expressly includes himself: “It is certain with regard to ourselves and our Princes that we are not clean and holy, and the Princes have vices of their own. But Christ loves a frank and downright confession.”[623]

Among such “confessions” made by Luther we find some concerning prayer.

His private, non-polemical religious exercises seem to have been exceedingly brief: “I have to do violence to myself daily in order to pray, and I am satisfied to repeat, when I go to bed, the Ten Commandments, the Our Father and then a verse or two; while thinking these over I fall asleep.”[636] Unusual, and at the same time peculiar, were the prayers which we hear of his offering with the intention of doing some wholesome ill to his neighbour, or even of bringing about the latter’s death in the interests of the Evangel. In a sermon on July 23, 1531, after reprimanding certain Wittenberg brewers, who, in the hope of adding to their profits, were accustomed to adulterate their beer, he says: “Unless you mend your ways, we shall pray that your malt may turn to muck and sewage. Don’t forget that.”[637]

The Christian’s life of faith ought not merely to be penetrated with the spirit of prayer but, in spite of all crosses and the temptations from earthy things, to move along the safe path of peace and joy of heart. Luther must have found much concerning “peace and joy in the Holy Ghost” in his favourite Epistle to the Romans. He himself says: “A Christian must be a joyful man.... Christ says, ‘Peace be with you; let not your heart be troubled: have confidence, I have overcome the world.’ It is the will of God that you be joyful.”

What do we see of pious effort on his part, more particularly in the matter of preparation for the sacraments, and repressing of self?

The spiritual life was to him a passive compliance with the faith which God Himself was to awaken and preserve in the heart.

The aim of Luther’s ethics, as is plain from the above, did not rise above the level of mediocrity. His practice, to judge from what has been already said, involved the renunciation of any effort after the attainment of eminent virtue. It may, however, be questioned whether he was really true even to the low standard he set himself.

There is a certain downward tendency in the system of mediocrity which drags one ever lower. Such a system carries with it the rejection of all effort to become ever more and more pleasing to God, such as religion must necessarily foster if it is to realise its vocation, and to which those countless souls who were capable of higher things have, under the influence of Divine grace, ever owed their progress. The indispensable and noblest dowry of true piety is the moulding of spiritual heroes, of men capable of overcoming the world and all material things. Thousands of less highly endowed souls, under the impulse from above, hasten to follow them, seeking the glory of God, and comfort amidst the troubles of life, in religion and the zealous practice of virtue. Mighty indeed, when transformed by them into glowing deeds, were the watch words of the Church’s Saints: “I was born for higher things,” “All for the greater glory of God,” “Conquer thyself,” “Suffer and fight with courage and confidence.”

On the other hand, the system of mediocrity, organised yielding to weakness, and the setting up of the lowest possible ethical standard, could not be expected to furnish Luther and his disciples with any very high religious motive. Even in the ordinary domain of Christian life Luther’s too easy and over-confident doctrine of the appropriation of the satisfaction made by Christ, sounds very different from our Saviour’s exhortations: “Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand”; “Whoever will come after Me, let him deny himself”; “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple”; or from those of St. Paul who said of himself, that the world was crucified to him and he to the world; or from those of St. Peter: “Seeing that Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the like mind.” “Do penance and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.” What Scripture requires of the faithful is not blind, mechanical confidence in the merits of Christ as a cloak for our sins, but “fruits worthy of penance.” In the long list of Luther’s works we seek in vain for a commentary which brings these solemn statements on penance before the mind of the reader with the emphasis hitherto habitual. Even were such a commentary forthcoming, the living commentary of his own life, which is the seal of the preacher’s words, would still be wanting.

On another point, viz. zeal for the souls of others, we see no less clearly how far Luther was removed from the ideal. True zeal for souls embraces all without exception, more particularly those who have gone astray and who must be brought to see the light and to be saved. Luther, on the other hand, again and again restricts most curiously the circle to whom his Evangel is to be preached; the wide outlook of the great preachers of the faith in the Church of olden days was not his.

The idea of a universal Church, which just then was inspiring Catholics to undertake the enormous missionary task of converting the newly discovered continents, stood, in Luther’s case, very much in the background.

Though, in part, this may be explained by his struggle for the introduction of the innovations into those portions of Germany nearest to him, yet the real reason was his surrender of the old ecclesiastical ideal, his transformation of the Church into an invisible kingdom of souls devoted to the Evangel, and his destruction of the older conception of Christendom with its two hinges, viz. the Papacy established for the spiritual and the Empire for the temporal welfare of the family of nations. He saw little beyond Saxony, the land favoured by the preaching of the new Gospel, and Germany, to which he had been sent as a “prophet.” The Middle Ages, though so poor in means of communication and geographical knowledge, compared with that age of discovery, was, thanks to its great Catholic, i.e. world-embracing ideas, inspired with an enthusiasm for the kingdom of God which found no place in the ideals of Lutheranism. We may compare, for instance, the heroic efforts of those earlier days to stem the incursions of the Eastern infidel with the opinion expressed by the Wittenberg professor on the war against the Crescent, where he declared the resistance offered in the name of Christendom to the Turks to be “contrary to the will of the Holy Ghost,” an opinion which he continued to hold, in spite of, or perhaps rather because of, its condemnation by the Pope (p. 76 ff., and p. 92). We may contrast the eloquent appeals of the preachers of the Crusades—inspired by the danger which threatened from the East—for the delivery of the Holy Land and the Holy Sepulchre, with Luther’s statement quoted above, that God troubled as little about the Tomb at Jerusalem as He did about the Swiss cows (p. 168). In Luther’s thoughts the boundaries of the Christian world have suddenly become much less extensive than in the Middle Ages, whilst ecclesiastical interests, thanks to the new territorial rights of the Princes, tend to be limited by the frontiers of the petty States.[649]

The stormy nature of the work on which his energies were spent could not fail to impress on his personal character a stamp of its own. In considering Luther’s ethical peculiarities, we are not at liberty to pass over in silence the feverish unrest—so characteristic of him and so unlike the calm and joyous determination evinced by true messengers sent by God—the blind and raging vehemence, which not only suited the violence of his natural disposition, but which he constantly fostered by his actions. “The Lord is not in the storm”; these words, found in the history of the Prophet Elias, do not seem to have been Luther’s subject of meditation. He himself, characteristically enough, speaks of his life-work as one long “tally-ho.” He was never content save when worrying others or being worried himself; he always required some object which he could pull to pieces, whereas true men of God are accustomed to proceed quietly, according to a fixed plan, and in the light of some great supernatural principle. With Luther excitement, confusion and war were a second nature. “The anger and rage of my enemies is my joy and delight, in spite of all their attempts to take it from me and defraud me of it.... To hell-fire with such flowers and fruits, for that is where they belong!”[650]

If, after listening to utterances such as the above, we proceed to visit Luther in his domestic circle—as we shall in the next section—we may well be surprised at the totally different impression given by the man. In the midst of his own people Luther appears in a much more peaceable guise.

He sought to fulfil his various duties as father of the family, towards his children, the servants and the numerous guests who lived in or frequented his house, whether relatives or others, so far as his occupations permitted. He was affable in his intercourse with them, sympathetic, benevolent and kind-hearted towards those who required his help, and easily satisfied with his material circumstances. All these and many other redeeming points in his character will be treated of more in detail later. It is true that the ceaseless labours to which he gave himself up caused him to overlook many abuses at his home which were apparent to others.

4. The Table-Talk and the First Notes of the same

At the social gatherings of his friends and pupils, Luther was fond of giving himself up unrestrainedly to mirth and jollity. His genius, loquacity and good-humour made him a “merry boon companion,” whose society was much appreciated. Often, it is true, he was very quiet and thoughtful. His guests little guessed, nay, perhaps he himself was not fully aware, how often his cheerfulness and lively sallies were due to the desire to repress thereby the sad and anxious thoughts which troubled him.

Liveliness and versatility, imagination and inventiveness, a good memory and a facile tongue were some of the gifts with which nature had endowed him. To these already excellent qualities must be added that depth of feeling which frequently finds expression in utterances of surprising beauty interspersed among his more profane sayings. Unfortunately, owing to his incessant conflicts and to the trivialities to which his pen and tongue were so prone, this better side of his character did not emerge as fully as it deserved.

In order to become better acquainted with the conditions amid which Luther lived at Wittenberg, we must betake ourselves to a room in the former Augustinian convent, where we shall find him seated, after the evening meal, amidst friends such as Melanchthon, Bugenhagen and Jonas, surrounded by eager students—for the most part boarders in his house, the former “Black monastery”—and strangers who had travelled to the little University town attracted by the fame of the Evangel. There it is that he imparts his views and relates his interior experiences in all confidence. He was perfectly aware that what he said was being noted down, and sometimes suggested that one saying or the other should be carefully committed to writing.[661] The older group of friends (1529-1535), to whom we owe relations of the Table-Talk, comprised Conrad Cordatus, Veit Dietrich, Johann Schlaginhaufen, Anton Lauterbach, Hieronymus Weller and Anton Corvinus; such of these as remained with him from 1536 to 1539 form the middle group; the last (1540-1546) was chiefly made up of Johann Mathesius, Caspar Heydenreich, Hieronymus Besold, Master Plato, Johann Stoltz and Johann Aurifaber. Apart from these there were a few who came into close, personal contact with Luther, for instance, George RÖrer, who assisted him in translating the Bible and who is one of Aurifaber’s authorities for the Table-Talk.[662]

In his twelfth Sermon on the “Historien von des ehrwÜrdigen ... Manns Gottes Martini Lutheri,” etc., Mathesius was later on to write that he had enjoyed at his table “many good colloquies and chats” and had tasted “much excellent stuff in the shape of writings and counsels.”[663] Luther himself refers incidentally to these social evenings in his famous saying, that, while he “drank Wittenberg beer with his friends Philip and Amsdorf,” God, by his means, had weakened the Papacy and brought it nigh to destruction.[664] The wine was drunk—at least on solemn occasions—from the famous bowl known as the “Catechismusglas,” on which were painted in sections, placed one below the other and separated by three ridges, various portions of Christian doctrine: at the top the Ten Commandments, in the middle the Creed and Our Father, and at the bottom the whole Catechism (probably the superscriptions and numbers of the questions in the Catechism). We read in the Table-Talk, that, on one occasion, Johann Agricola could get only as far as the Ten Commandments at one draught, whereas Luther was able to empty the bowl right off down to the very dregs, i.e. “Catechism and all.”[665]

For Luther’s sayings given in what follows we have made use of the so-called original versions of the Table-Talk recently edited by various Protestant scholars, viz. the Diaries of Lauterbach and Cordatus, the notes of Schlaginhaufen and the Collections made by Mathesius and found in the “Aufzeichnungen” edited by Loesche and in the “Tischreden (Mathesius)” published more recently still by Kroker, the Leipzig librarian.[666]

The objection has frequently been raised that the Table-Talk ought not to be made use of as a reliable source of information for the delineation of Luther’s person. It is, however, remarkable that the chapters which are favourable to Luther are referred to and exploited in Protestant histories, only that which is disagreeable being usually excluded as historically inaccurate. The fact is that we have merely to comply conscientiously with the rules of historical criticism when utilising the information contained in the Table-Talk, which, owing to its fulness and variety, never fails to rivet attention. These rules suggest that we should give the preference to those statements which recur frequently under a similar form; that we should not take mere questions, put forward by Luther simply to invite discussion and correction, as conveying his real thought; that we consult the original notes, if possible those made at the time of the conversation, and that, where there is a discrepancy between the accounts (a rare occurrence), we should prefer those which date from before the time when Luther’s pupils arranged and classified his sayings according to subjects. The chronological arrangement of Luther’s sayings has thereby suffered, and here and there the text has been altered. For this reason the Latin tradition, as we have it, for instance, from Lauterbach’s pen,[667] ranks before the German version, which is of slightly later date. Kroker’s new edition, when complete, promises to be the best.

If the rules of historical criticism are followed in this and other points there is no reason why the historian should not thankfully avail himself of this great fount of information, which the first collectors themselves extolled as the most valuable authority on the spirit of their master “of pious and holy memory,”[668] and as likely to prove both instructive and edifying to a later generation. The doubt as to the reliability of the notes has been well answered by Kroker: “Such distrust, so far as the original documents are concerned, can now no longer stand. In his rendering of Luther’s words Mathesius, and likewise Heydenreich, Besold and Weller, whose notes his Collection also embodies, does not differ substantially from the older table companions, Dietrich, Schlaginhaufen and Lauterbach. All these men did their utmost to render Luther’s sayings faithfully and to the best of their knowledge and ability.”[669]

The spontaneous character of the Table-Talk gives it a peculiar value of its own. “These [conversations] are children of the passing moment, reliable witnesses to the prevailing mood” (Adolf Hausrath). In intercourse with intimates our ideas and feelings express themselves much more spontaneously and naturally than where the pen of the letter-writer is being guided by reflection, and seeks to make a certain impression on the mind of his reader. But if even letters are no faithful index to our thought, how much less so are prints, intended for the perusal of thousands and even to outlive the writer’s age? On the other hand, it is true that the deliberation which accompanies the use of the pen, imparts, in a certain sense, to the written word a higher value than is possessed by the spoken word. We should, however, expect to find in a man occupying such a position as Luther’s a standard sufficiently high to ensure the presence of deliberation and judgment even in ordinary conversation.

Among the valuable statements made by Luther, which on account of their very nature were unsuited for public utterance but have been faithfully transmitted in the Table-Talk, we have, for instance, certain criticisms of friends and even patrons in high places. Such reflections could not well be uttered save in the privacy of his domestic circle, but, for this very reason, they may well be prized by the historian. Then we have his candid admissions concerning himself, for instance, that his fear lest the Landgrave of Hesse should fall away from the cause of the Evangel constituted one of the motives which led him to sanction this Prince’s bigamy. Then, again, there is the account of his mental trouble, due to certain external events, of the influence of biblical passages, old memories, etc. Finally, we have his strange counsels concerning resistance to temptation, his own example held up as a consolation to the faint-hearted, to those who wavered in the faith or were inclined to despair; his excuse for a “good drink,” his curious recipe for counteracting the evil done by witches at home, and many other statements of an intimate nature which were quite unsuitable for public writings or even for letters. All this, and much more, offers the unprejudiced observer an opportunity for knowing Luther better. It is true that all is not the Word of God; this Luther himself states in a passage which has been wrongly brought forward in excuse of the Table-Talk: “I must admit that I say many things which are not the Word of God, when speaking outside my office of preacher, at home at meals, or elsewhere and at other times.”[670]

The value of the Table-Talk (always assuming the use of the oldest and authentic version) is enhanced if we take into consideration the attitude assumed with regard to it by learned Protestant writers of earlier times. As an instance of a certain type we may take Walch, the scholarly editor of the important Jena edition of Luther’s works prized even to-day.[671] He was much annoyed at the publication of the Table-Talk, just because it furnished abundant material for a delineation of Luther, i.e. for that very reason for which it is esteemed by the modern historian. It was unjust, he says, and “quite wrong to reveal what ought to have been buried in silence, to say nothing of the opportunity thus afforded the Papists for abuse and calumny of Luther’s person and life.” At most—he continues in a tone in which no present-day historian would dare to speak—mere “selections” from the Table-Talk “which could give no offence” ought to have been published, but thus to bring everything ruthlessly to light was a “perversion of the human will.” Fortunately, however, it was not possible even so to prove much against Luther, for, “though the sayings emanated from him originally,[672] still, they remained mere sayings, spoken without deliberation and written down without his knowledge or consent.”[673]

When he made this last statement Walch was not aware that Luther’s utterances were committed to writing in his presence and with his full “consent and knowledge” even, for instance, when spoken in the garden. “Strange as it may appear to us, these men were usually busy recording Luther’s casual words, just as though they were seated in a lecture-hall.”[674] Once, in 1540, Catherine Bora said jestingly to Luther, when they were at table with several industrious students: “Doctor, don’t teach them without being paid; they have already written down quite a lot; Lauterbach, however, has written the most and all that is best.” To which the Doctor replied; “I have taught and preached gratis for thirty years, why then should I now begin to take money for it in my old age?”[675]

The style of the original notes of the Table-Talk in many instances shows plainly that they were made while the conversation was actually in progress; even the frequent defects in the construction of the original notes, which have now been published, prove this.[676]

In 1844 E. FÖrstemann in his edition of the Table-Talk, as against Walch, had expressed himself strongly in favour of its correctness; he even went so far as to remark, with all the prejudice of an editor for his own work, that these conversations constituted the most important part of Luther’s spiritual legacy, and that here “the current of his thoughts flows even more limpidly than elsewhere.”[677] Walter KÖhler likewise, speaking of the Table-Talk edited by Kroker, considers it a “reliable source.”[678]

Of Johann Aurifaber, who was the first to publish the Table-Talk in German, at Eisleben in 1566, and through whose edition it was most widely known, F. X. Funk said in 1882: “As his devotion to Luther led him to make public all the words and sayings which had come to his knowledge, the book, in spite of its defective plan, is important for the history of the Reformer and his time. Its value has always been admitted, though from different standpoints; of this its numerous editions are a proof.”[679] The defect in the arrangement consists in the classifying of the sayings handed down according to the different subjects, whereby they lose their historical setting. The large, new edition of the Table-Talk now planned, will necessarily abandon this confusing arrangement. It has been proved, however, that Aurifaber had a reliable version to work on. “He most probably took for the basis of his edition Lauterbach’s preliminary work,”[680] says Kawerau. This collection of Lauterbach’s has been incorporated, for the most part, in the Halle MS. edited by Bindseil under the title “Colloquia,” etc.[681] In addition to this, Aurifaber made use of the notes by Cordatus, Schlaginhaufen, Veit Dietrich, Mathesius and others. Kawerau draws attention to the fact, that the coarseness to be found in the German edition is not solely due to the compiler, as some of Luther’s apologists had urged, but really belongs to the original texts. Gross sayings of the sort not only gave no offence to Aurifaber, but he delights to repeat them at great length. Yet in certain instances he appears to have watered down and modified his text, as one investigator has proved by a comparison with the notes of Cordatus.[682]

The Pith of the New Religion. Doubts on Faith.

We shall begin by giving some practical theological examples out of the Table-Talk which may serve further to elucidate certain of Luther’s ideas already referred to, e.g. those concerning temptations and their remedy, particularly that most serious temptation of all, viz. regarding the saving power of fiducial faith, which, so Luther thinks, comes through our “weakness.” To this, the tender spot and at the same time cardinal point of his teaching and practical morality, Luther returns again and again, with a frankness for which indeed we may be grateful. Owing to the nature of the conversations and to his habitual loquacity it may happen that some of the trains of thought and modes of expression resemble those already quoted elsewhere; this, however, is no reason for neglecting them, for they testify anew to the ideas of which his mind was full, and also to the state of habitual depression in which he lived.

“Early this morning the devil held a disputation with me on Zwingli, and I learned that a full head is better able to wrangle with the devil than an empty one.... Hence,” he says, “eat and drink and live well, for bodies tempted in this way must have plenty of food and drink; but lewdsters, and those tempted by sensual passion, ought to fast.”[683]

“For those who are tempted fasting is a hundred times worse than eating and drinking.”[684]

“When a man is tempted, or is in the company of those who are tempted, let him put to death Moses [i.e. the Law] and cast stones at him; but, when he recovers, the Law must be preached to him also; a man who is troubled must not have new trouble heaped upon him.”[685]

“In the monastery the words ‘just and justice’ fell like a thunderbolt upon my conscience. I was terrified when I heard it said: ‘He is just, and He will punish.’”[686] [But now I know]: “Our justice is a relative justice [a foreign righteousness]. Though I am not good, yet Christ is good.”[687] “Hence I say to the devil: I, indeed, am a sinner, but Christ is righteous.”[688]

Many admissions reveal his altered feelings, the inconstancy and sudden changes to which he was so prone.

“I do not always take pleasure in the Word. Were I always so disposed towards the Word of God as I was formerly, then I should indeed be happy. Even dear St. Paul had to complain in this regard, for he bewails another law which wars in his members. But is the Word to be considered false because it does not happen to suit me?”[689]

“Unless we wrap ourselves round with this God, Who has become both Man and Word, Satan will surely devour us.” “Hence the aim of the Prophets and the Apostles, viz. to make us hold fast to the Word.” “It costs God Almighty much to manifest His power and mercy even to a few. He must slay many kings before a few men learn to fear Him, and He must save many a rascal and many a prostitute before even a handful of sinners learn to believe in Him.”[690]

“So soon as I say: ‘Yes, indeed, I am a poor sinner,’ Christ replies, ‘But I died for you, I baptised you and I teach you daily.’ ... Ever bear this in mind, that it is not Christ Who affrights you, but Satan; believe this as though God Himself were speaking.”[691]

“Is it not a curse that we should magnify our sins so greatly? Why do we not exalt our baptism just as we exalt our inheritance? A princely baby remains a prince even though he should s—— in his cradle. A child does not cease being heir to his father’s property for having soiled his father’s habiliments. If only we could see our way to make much of our inheritance and patrimony before God!... Yet children call God quite simply their Father.”[692]

“You are not the only man to be tempted; I also am tempted and have bigger sins piled on my conscience than you and your fathers. I would rather I had been a procurer or highwayman than that I should have offered up Christ in the Mass for so long a time.”[693]

The last words may serve as an introduction to a remarkable series of statements concerning the religious practices of the ancient Church. As these words show, he does not shrink from dishonouring by the most unworthy comparisons even those acts and doctrines which, by reason of their religious value, were dear to the whole Church of antiquity and had been regarded by some of the purest and most exalted souls as their only consolation in this life.

We have to proceed to the uninviting task of collecting other sayings of Luther’s, particularly from the Table-Talk, which are characteristic of his more than plain manner of speaking, and to pass in review the somewhat peculiar views held by him on matters sexual. As it is to be feared that the delicacy of some of our readers will be offended, we may point out that those who wish are at liberty to skip the pages which follow and to continue from Section 7 of the present chapter which forms the natural sequence of what has gone before. Certainly no one would have had just cause for complaint had one of the guests at Luther’s table chosen to take leave when the conversation began to turn on matters distasteful to him. The historian, however, is obliged to remain. True to his task he may not close his ears to what is said, however unpleasant the task of listener. He must bear in mind that Cordatus, one of Luther’s guests, in the Diary he wrote praises Luther’s Table-Talk as “more precious than the oracles of Apollo.” This praise Cordatus bestows not only on the “serious theological discourses,” but also expressly on those sayings which were apparently merely frivolous.[701] Another pupil, Mathesius, who was also frequently present, assures us he never heard an improper word from Luther’s lips.[702] This he writes in spite of the fact, that one of the first anecdotes he relates, embellished with a Latin verse from Philo, contains an unseemly jest,[703] and that he himself immediately after tells how Luther on one occasion told the people from the pulpit that: “Ein weiter Leib und zeitiger Mist ist gut zu scheiden”; he even mentions that Luther was carried away to express himself yet more plainly concerning the ventral functions, till he suddenly reined in and corrected himself. The truth is that Mathesius was an infatuated admirer of Luther’s.

As a matter of fact, terms descriptive of the lower functions of the body again and again serve Luther not only to express his anger and contempt, but as comparisons illustrative of his ideas, whether on indifferent matters or on the highest and most sacred topics. It is true that what he said was improper rather than obscene, coarse rather than lascivious. Nor, owing to the rough and uncouth character of the age and the plainness of speech then habitual, were his expressions, taken as a whole, so offensive to his contemporaries as to us. Yet, that Luther should have cultivated this particular sort of language so as to outstrip in it all his literary contemporaries, scarcely redounds to his credit. His readers and hearers of that day frequently expressed their disgust, and at times his language was so strong that even Catherine Bora was forced to cry halt.

As a matter of course the devil came in for the largest share of this kind of vituperation, more particularly that devil who was filling Luther with anxiety and trouble of mind. The Pope and his Catholic opponents came a good second. Luther was, however, fond of spicing in the same way even his utterances on purely worldly matters.

After the above there is no need of giving further instances of the kind of language with which opponents within his fold had to put up from Luther. It will suffice to mention the poem “De merda” with which he retaliated on the satirist Lemnius for some filthy verses,[734] and the following prediction to his Zwickau opponents: “When trouble befalls them, whenever it may be, they will ‘in die Hosen scheissen und ein solchen Gestanck anrichten’ that nobody will be able to tarry in their neighbourhood.”[735]

It is also difficult for us to tarry any longer over these texts, especially as in what follows we shall meet with others of a similar character.[736]

Not to do injustice to the general character of Luther’s Table-Talk, we must again lay stress on the fact, that very many of his evening conversations are of irreproachable propriety. We may peruse many pages of the notes without meeting anything in the least offensive, but much that is both fine and attractive. Events of the day, history, nature, politics or the Bible, form in turn the subject-matter of the Table-Talk, and much of what was said was true, witty and not seldom quite edifying.

Still, the fact remains that filthy talking and vulgarity came so natural to Luther as to constitute a questionable side to his character.

Even when writing seriously, and in works intended for the general public, he seems unable to bridle his pen.

We must here consider more closely the statement, already alluded to, made by some of Luther’s apologists. To remove the unfavourable impression left on the mind of present-day readers by his unbridled language an attempt has been made to represent it as having been quite the usual thing in Luther’s day.

It is true that, saving some expressions peculiar to the Saxon peasant, such obscenity is to be met with among the neo-Humanist writers of that age, both in Germany and abroad. Even Catholic preachers in Germany, following the manners of the time, show but scant consideration for the delicacy of their hearers when speaking of sexual matters or of the inferior functions of the human body. It is quite impossible to set up a definite standard of what is becoming, which shall apply equally to every age and every state of civilisation. But if Luther’s defenders desire to exonerate him by comparing him with others, it is clear that they are not justified in adducing examples taken from burlesque, popular writers, light literature, or even from certain writings of the Humanists. The filth contained in these works had been denounced by many a better author even in that age. Luther, as already explained (vol. ii., p. 150 f.), must not be judged by a profane standard, but by that which befits a writer on religion and the spiritual life, a reformer and founder of a new religion. The fact remains that it is impossible to instance any popular religious writer who ever went so far as, or even approached, Luther in his lack of restraint in this particular. Luther, in the matter of licentiousness of language, stands out as a giant apart. The passages to be quoted later on marriage and the sexual question will make this still more apparent.

His own contemporaries declared aloud that he stood quite alone in the matter of coarseness and in his incessant use of vituperation; Catholics, such as Dungersheim, and opponents of the Catholic Church like Bullinger, testify alike in the strongest terms to the impression made upon them. Some of their numerous statements will be quoted below. We may, however, remark that the severest strictures of all came from Sir Thomas More, who, for all his kindliness of disposition, condemned most indignantly the filthy language of the assailant of King Henry VIII. of England. The untranslatable passage may be read in its Latin original in the note below.[743] Caspar Schatzgeyer, another learned opponent of Luther’s, and likewise a man of mild temper, also rebuked Luther with great vehemence for the ignoble and coarse tone he was wont to employ against theological adversaries; he plainly hints that no one within living memory had brought into the literary arena such an arsenal of obscene language. Luther behaved “like a conqueror, assured by the spirit that he was able to walk upon the sea.” Spirits must, however, be tried. “The triumphal car of the victor can only be awarded to Luther and his followers if it be admitted that to triumph is synonymous with befouling the face and garments of all foes with vituperative filth (‘conviciorum stercora’), so that they are forced to save themselves by flight from the intolerable stench and dirt. Never in any literary struggle has such an array of weapons of that sort been seen.” One could well understand how such a man inspired fear amongst all who valued the cleanliness of their garments. Well might he be left to triumph with his assertion, which his adversaries would be the last to gainsay, “that everything which is not Gospel, must make room for the Gospel.”[744]

Some have gone so far as to say, that the tone of the popular religious writers of the period, from 1450-1550, was frequently so vulgar that there is little to choose between them and Luther. This is an unfair and unhistorical aspersion on a sort of literature then much read and which, though now little known, is slowly coming to its due owing to research. We may call to mind the long list of those in whose writings Luther could have found not merely models of decency and good taste—which might well have shamed him—but also much else worthy of imitation; for instance, Thomas À Kempis, Jacob Wimpfeling, Johann Mensing, Johann Hoffmeister, Michael Vehe, Johann Wild, Matthias Sittard, Caspar Schatzgeyer, Hieronymus Dungersheim, Ulrich Krafft, Johannes Fabri, Marcus de Weida, Johann Staupitz, and lastly Peter Canisius, who also belonged practically to this period. Many other popular religious authors might be enumerated, but it is impossible to instance a single one among them who would have descended to the level of the language employed by Luther.

Moreover, those secular writers of that day whose offensive crudities have been cited in excuse of Luther, all differed from him in one particular, viz. they did not employ these as he did, or at least not to the same extent, as controversial weapons. It is one thing to collect dirty stories and to dwell on them at inordinate length in order to pander to the depraved taste of the mob; it is quite another to pelt an enemy with filthy abuse. Hate and fury only make a vulgar tone more repulsive. There are phrases used by Luther against theological adversaries which no benevolent interpretation avails to excuse. Such was his rude answer to the request of the Augsburgers (above, p. 233), or, again, “I would rather advise you to drink Malvasian wine and to believe in Christ alone, and leave the monk (who through being a monk has denied Christ) to swill water or ‘seinen eigenen Urin.’”[745]

It may occur to one to plead in justification the language of the peasants of that day, and it must be conceded, that, even now, in certain districts the countryman’s talk is such as can only be appreciated in the country. The author of a book, “Wie das Volk spricht” (1855), who made a study of the people in certain regions not particularly remarkable for culture or refinement, says quite rightly in his Preface, that his examples are often quite unsuited “for the ears of ladies, and those of a timorous disposition”; “the common people don’t wear kid gloves.” This writer was dealing with the present day, yet one might ask what indulgence an author would find were he to draw his language from such a source, particularly did he happen to be a theologian, a spiritual writer or a reformer? Luther undoubtedly savours of his time, but his expressions are too often reminiscent of Saxon familiarity; for instance, when he vents his displeasure in the words: “The devil has given his mother ‘eine Fliege in den Hintern.’”[746]

Luther was fond of introducing indelicacies of this sort even into theological tracts written in Latin and destined for the use of the learned, needless to say to the huge scandal of foreigners not accustomed to find such coarseness in the treatment of serious subjects. Under the circumstances we can readily understand the indignation of men like Sir Thomas More (above, p. 237, n. 1) at the rudeness of the German.

Luther’s example proved catching among his followers and supporters. A crowd of writers became familiar with the mention of subjects on which a discreet silence is usually observed, and grew accustomed to use words hitherto banished from polite society. So well were Luther’s works known that they set the tone. His favourite pupils, Mathesius and Aurifaber, for instance, seem scarcely aware of the unseemliness of certain questions discussed. Sleidan, the well-known Humanist historian, described the obscene woodcuts published by Luther and Lucas Cranach in 1545 in mockery of the Papacy, “as calmly as though they had been no worse than Mr. Punch’s kindly caricatures.”[747] Luther actually told the theologians and preachers (and his words carried even more weight with secular writers, who were less hampered by considerations of decency) that “those who filled the office of preacher must hold the filth of the Pope and the bishops up to their very noses,”[748] for the “Roman court, and the Pope who is the bishop of that court, is the devil’s bishop, the devil himself, nay, the excrement which the devil has ... into the Church.”[749]

One of Luther’s most ardent defenders in the present day, Wilhelm Walther of Rostock, exonerates Luther from any mere imitation of the customary language of the peasants or the monks, for, strange to say, some have seen in his tone the influence of monasticism; he claims originality for Luther. “Such a mode of expression,” he says, “was not in Luther’s case the result of his peasant extraction or of his earlier life. For, far from becoming gradually less noticeable as years went on, it is most apparent in his old age.”[750] It is plain that Luther’s earlier Catholic life cannot be held responsible, nor the monastic state of celibacy, often misjudged though it has been in certain quarters. As regards the reassertion in him of the peasant’s son, we are at liberty to think what we please. At any rate, we cannot but endorse what Walther says concerning the steady growth of the disorder; in all likelihood the applause which greeted his popular and vigorous style reacted on Luther and tended to confirm him in his literary habits. As years passed he grew more and more anxious that every word should strike home, and delighted in stamping all he wrote with the individuality of “rude Luther.” Under the circumstances it was inevitable that his style should suffer.

Walther thinks he has found the real explanation in Luther’s “energy of character” and the depth of his “moral feeling”; here, according to him, we have cause of his increasingly lurid language; Luther, “in his wish to achieve something,” and to bring “his excellent ideas” home to the man in the street, of set purpose disregarded the “esthetic feelings of his readers” and his own “reputation as a writer.” Melanchthon, says Walther, “took offence at his smutty language. Luther’s reply was to make it smuttier still.”

This line of defence is remarkable enough to deserve to be chronicled. From the historical standpoint, however, we should bear in mind that Luther had recourse to “smuttiness” not merely in theological and religious writings or when desirous of producing some effect with “his excellent ideas.” The bad habit clings to him quite as much elsewhere, and disfigures his most commonplace conversations and casual sallies.

Thus the psychological root of the problem lies somewhat deeper. We shall not be far wrong in believing, that a man who moved habitually amidst such impure imaginations, and gave unrestrained expression to statements of a character so offensive, bore within himself the cause. Luther was captain in a violent warfare on vows, religious rules, celibacy and many other ordinances and practices of the Church, which had formerly served as barriers against sensuality. Consciously or unconsciously his rude nature led him to cast off the fetters of shame which had once held him back from what was low and vulgar. After all, language is the sign and token of what is felt within. It was chiefly his own renunciation of the higher standard of life which led him to abandon politeness in speech and controversy, and, in word and imagery, to sink into ever lower depths. Such is most likely the correct answer to the psychological problem presented by the steady growth of this questionable element in his language.

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (“Werke,” 7, p. 401) has a few words, not devoid of admiration for Luther, which, however, apply to the whole man and not merely to his habits of speech. They may well serve as a transition to what follows: “Luther’s merit lies in this, that he possessed the courage of his sensuality—in those days tactfully described as the ‘freedom of the Gospel.’”

5. On Marriage and Sexuality

Christianity, with its doctrine of chastity, brought into the heathen world a new and vital element. It not only inculcated the controlling of the sexual instinct by modesty and the fear of God, but, in accordance with the words of our Saviour and His Apostle, St. Paul, it represented voluntary renunciation of marriage and a virgin life as more perfect and meritorious in God’s sight. What appeared so entirely foreign to the demands of nature, the Christian religion characterised as really not only attainable, but fraught with happiness for those who desired to follow the counsel of Christ and who trusted in the omnipotence of His grace. The sublime example of our Lord Himself, of His Holy Mother, and of the disciple whom Jesus loved, also St. Paul’s praise for virginity and the magnificent description in the Apocalypse of the triumphal throng of virgins who follow the Lamb, chanting a song given to them alone to sing—all this inspired more generous souls to tread with cheerfulness the meritorious though thorny path of continence. Besides these, countless millions, who did not choose to live unwedded, but were impelled by their circumstances to embrace the married state, learnt in the school of Christianity, with the help of God’s grace, that in matrimony too it was possible for them to serve God cheerfully and to gain everlasting salvation.

The Necessity of Marriage.

After having violated his monastic vows, Luther not only lost a true appreciation of the celibate state when undertaken for the love of God, but also became disposed to exaggerate the strength of the sexual instinct in man, to such an extent, that, according to him, extra-matrimonial misconduct was almost unavoidable to the unmarried. In this conviction his erroneous ideas concerning man’s inability for doing what is good play a great part. He lays undue stress on the alleged total depravity of man and represents him as the helpless plaything of his evil desires and passions, until at last it pleases God to work in him. At the same time the strength of some of his statements on the necessity of marriage is due to controversial interests; to the desire to make an alluring appeal to the senses of those bound by vows or by the ecclesiastical state, to become unfaithful to the promises they had made to the Almighty. Unfortunately the result too often was that Luther’s invitation was made to serve as an excuse for a life which did not comply even with the requirements of ordinary morality.

In insisting on the necessity of marriage, Luther does not stop to consider that the Church of antiquity, for all her esteem for matrimony, was ever careful to see that the duties and interests of the individual, of the State and of the Church were respected, and not endangered by hasty marriages. Luther himself was not hampered by considerations of that sort, whether in the case of priests, monks or laymen. The unmarried state revolted him to such a degree, that he declares nothing offended his “ears more than the words nun, monk and priest,” and that he looked on marriage as “a Paradise, even though the married pair lived in abject poverty.”[767] A couple, who on account of their circumstances should hesitate to marry, he reproaches with a “pitiful want of faith.” “A boy not later than the age of twenty, and a girl when she is from fifteen to eighteen years of age [ought to marry]. Then they are still healthy and sound, and they can leave it to God to see that their children are provided for.”[768]

If we are to take him at his word, then a cleric ought to marry merely to defy the Pope. “For, even though he may have the gift so as to be able to live chastely without a wife, yet he ought to marry in defiance of the Pope, who insists so much on celibacy.”[769]

The “Miracle” of Voluntary and Chaste Celibacy.

Of the celibate and continent life Luther had declared (above, p. 242-3) that practically only a miracle could render it possible.[770] If we compare his statements on virginity, we shall readily see how different elements were warring within him. On the one hand he is anxious to uphold the plain words of Scripture, which place voluntary virginity above marriage. On the other, his conception of the great and, without grace, irresistible power of concupiscence draws him in the opposite direction. Moreover, man, being devoid of free will, and incapable of choosing of his own accord the higher path, in order not to fall a prey to his lusts, must resolutely embrace the married state intended by God for the generality of men. Then, again, we must not discount the change his views underwent after his marriage with a nun.

In view of the “malady” of “the common flesh,” he says of the man who pledges himself to voluntary chastity, that “on account of this malady, marriage is necessary to him and it is not in his power to do without it; for his flesh rages, burns and tends to be fruitful as much as that of any other man, and he must have recourse to marriage as the necessary remedy. Such passion of the flesh God permits for the sake of marriage and for that of the progeny.”[771]—And yet, according to another passage in Luther’s writings, even marriage is no remedy for concupiscence: “Sensual passion (‘libido’) cannot be cured by any remedy, not even marriage, which God has provided as a medicine for weak nature. For the majority of married people are adulterers, and each says to the other in the words of the poet: ‘Neither with nor without you can I live.’”[772] “Experience teaches us, that, in the case of many, even marriage is not a sufficient remedy; otherwise there would be no adultery or fornication, whereas, alas, they are only too frequent.”[773]

It is merely a seeming contradiction to his words on the miraculous nature of virginity when Luther says on one occasion: “Many are to be met with who have this gift; I also had it, though with many evil thoughts and dreams,”[774] for possibly, owing to his reference to himself, modesty led him here to represent this rare and miraculous gift as less unusual. Here he speaks of “many,” but usually of the “few.” “We find so few who possess God’s gift of chastity.”[775] “They are rare,” he says in his sermon on conjugal life, “and among a thousand there is scarcely one to be found, for they are God’s own wonder-works; no man may venture to aspire to this unless God calls him in a special manner.”[776]

Luther acknowledges that those in whom God works this “miracle”—who, while remaining unmarried, do not succumb to the deadly assaults of concupiscence—were to be esteemed fortunate on account of the happiness of the celibate state. It would be mere one-sidedness to dwell solely upon Luther’s doctrine of the necessity and worth of marriage and not to consider the numerous passages in which he speaks in praise of voluntary and chaste celibacy.

He says in the sermon on conjugal life: “No state of life is to be regarded as more pleasing in the sight of God than the married state. The state of chastity is certainly better on earth as having less of care and trouble, not in itself, but because a man can give himself to preaching and the Word of God [1 Cor. vii. 34].... In itself it is far less exalted.”[777] In the following year, 1523, in his exposition of 1 Corinthians, chapter vii., St. Paul’s declaration leads him to extol virginity: “Whoever has grace to remain chaste, let him do so and abstain from marriage and not take upon himself such trouble unless need enforce it, as St. Paul here counsels truly; for it is a great and noble freedom to be unmarried and saves one from much disquietude, vexation and trouble.”[778] He even goes so far as to say: “It is a sweet, joyous and splendid gift, for him to whom it is given, to be chaste cheerfully and willingly,”[779] and for this reason in particular “is it a fine thing,” because it enables us the better to serve the “Christian Churches, the Evangel and the preaching of the Word”; this is the case “when you refrain from taking a wife so as to be at peace and to be of service to the Kingdom of Heaven.” The preacher, he explains, for instance, was not expected to ply a trade, for which reason also he received a stipend for preaching. “Hence, whoever wishes to serve the Churches and to enjoy greater quiet, would do well to remain without a wife, for then he would have neither wife nor child to support.”[780] “Whoever has the gift of being able to live without a wife, is an angel on earth and leads a peaceful life.”[781]

In this way Luther comes practically to excuse, nay, even to eulogise, clerical celibacy; elsewhere we again find similar ideas put forward.

In his Latin exposition of Psalm cxxviii. he says: “There must be freedom either to remain single or to marry. Who would force the man who has no need to marry to do so? Whoever is among those who are able ‘to receive this word,’ let him remain unmarried and glory in the Lord.... They who can do without marrying do well (recte faciunt) to abstain from it and not to burden themselves with the troubles it brings.”[782] And again: “Whoever is set free by such a grace [a ‘special and exalted grace of God’], let him thank God and obey it.”[783] For “if we contrast the married state with virginity, chastity is undoubtedly a nobler gift than marriage, but, still, marriage is as much God’s gift—so St. Paul tells us—as chastity.”[784] Compared with the chastity of marriage, “virgin chastity is more excellent (virginalis castitas excellentior est).”[785] “Celibacy is a gift of God and we commend both this and the married state in their measure and order. We do not extol marriage as though we should slight or repudiate celibacy.”[786]

Usually Luther represents virginity as not indeed superior but quite equal to the married state: “To be a virgin or a spouse is a different gift; both are equally well pleasing to God.”[787] As we might expect, we find the warmest appreciation of celibacy expressed before Luther himself began to think of marriage, whereas, subsequent to 1525, his strictures on celibacy become more frequent. In 1518, without any restriction, he has it that virginity is held to be the highest ornament and “an incomparable jewel”; in the case of religious, chastity was all the more precious because “they had of their own free will given themselves to the Lord.”[788] In the following year, comparing the married state with virginity, he says that “virginity is better,” when bestowed by the grace of God.[789]

“The breach with the past caused by his marriage,” says M. Rade, was “greater and more serious” than any change effected in later years in matrimonial relationship.[790] By his advocacy of marriage, as against celibacy and his glorification of family life, Luther brought about “a reversal of all accepted standards.”[791] Rade, not without sarcasm, remarks: “There is something humorous in the way in which Luther in his exposition of 1 Corinthians vii., which we have repeatedly had occasion to quote, after praising virginity ever passes on to the praise of the married state.”[792] It is quite true that his interpretation seems forced, when he makes St. Paul, in this passage, extol continency, not on account of its “merit and value in God’s sight,” but merely for the “tranquillity and comfort it insures in this life.”[793] To Luther it is of much greater interest, that St. Paul should be “so outspoken in his praise of the married state and should allude to it as a Divine gift.” He at once proceeds to prove from this, that “the married state is the holiest state of all, and that certain states had been falsely termed ‘religious’ and others ‘secular’; for the reverse ought to be the case, the married state being truly religious and spiritual.”[794]

Luther’s animus against celibacy became manifest everywhere. He refused to give sufficient weight to the Bible passages, to the self-sacrifice so pleasing to God involved in the unmarried state, or to its merits for time and for eternity. It is this animus which leads him into exaggeration when he speaks of the necessity of marriage for all men, and to utter words which contradict what he himself had said in praise of celibacy.

He paints in truly revolting colours the moral abominations of the Papacy, exaggerating in unmeasured terms the notorious disorders which had arisen from the infringement of clerical celibacy. His controversial writings contain disgusting and detailed descriptions of the crimes committed against morality in the party of his opponents; the repulsive tone is only rivalled by his prejudice and want of discrimination which lead him to believe every false report or stupid tale redounding to the discredit of Catholicism.

His conception of the rise of clerical celibacy is inclined to be hazy: “The celibacy of the clergy commenced in the time of Cyprian.” Elsewhere he says that it began “in the time of Bishop Ulrich, not more than five hundred years ago.”[795]

He assures us that “St. Ambrose and others did not believe that they were men.”[796] “The infamous superstition [of celibacy] gave rise to, and promoted, horrible sins such as fornication, adultery, incest ... also strange apparitions and visions.... What else could be expected of monks, idle and over-fed pigs as they were, than that they should have such fancies?”[797]—In the Pope’s Ten Commandments there was, so he said, a sixth which ran: “Thou shalt not be unchaste, but force them to be so” (by means of vows and celibacy), and a ninth: “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, but say, it is no sin.”[798]

“Were all those living under the Papacy kneaded together, not one would be found who had remained chaste up to his fortieth year. Yet they talk much of virginity and find fault with all the world while they themselves are up to their ears in filth.”[799]—“It pleases me to see the Saints sticking in the mud just like us. But it is true that God allows nature to remain, together with the spirit and with grace.”[800]

Luther’s Loosening of the Marriage Tie.

Luther, advocate and promoter of marriage though he was, himself did much to undermine its foundations, which must necessarily rest on its indissolubility and sanctity as ordained by Christ. In the six following cases which he enumerates he professes to find sufficient grounds for dissolving the marriage tie, overstepping in the most autocratic fashion the limits of what is lawful to the manifest detriment of matrimony.

He declares, first, that if one or other of the married parties should be convicted of obstinately refusing “to render the conjugal due, or to remain with the other,” then “the marriage was annulled”; the husband might then say: “If you are unwilling, some other will consent; if the wife refuse, then let the maid come”; he had the full right to take an Esther and dismiss Vasthi, as King Assuerus had done (Esther ii. 17).[801] To the remonstrances of his wife he would be justified in replying: “Go, you prostitute, go to the devil if you please”;[802] the injured party was at liberty to contract a fresh union, though only with the sanction of the authorities or of the congregation, while the offending party incurred the penalty of the law and might or might not be permitted to marry again.[803]

The words: “If you won’t ... then let the maid come” were destined to become famous. Not Catholics only, but Protestants too, found in them a stone of offence. As they stand they give sufficient ground for scandal. Was it, however, Luther’s intention thereby to sanction relations with the maid outside the marriage bond? In fairness the question must be answered in the negative. Both before and after the critical passage the text speaks merely of the dissolution of the marriage and the contracting of another union; apart from this, as is clear from other passages, Luther never sanctioned sexual commerce outside matrimony. Thus, strictly speaking, according to him, the husband would only have the right to threaten the obstinate wife to put her away and contract a fresh union with the maid. At the same time the allusion to the maid was unfortunate, as it naturally suggested something different from marriage. In all probability it was the writer’s inveterate habit of clothing his thought in the most drastic language at his command that here led him astray. It may be that the sentence “Then let the maid come” belonged to a rude proverb which Luther used without fully adverting to its actual meaning, but it has yet to be proved that such a proverb existed before Luther’s day; at any rate, examples can be quoted of the words having been used subsequently as a proverb, on the strength of his example.[804]—It was on this, the first ground for the dissolution of marriage, that Luther based his decision in 1543, when one of the Professors turned preacher and his wife refused to follow him to his post at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, saying that “she wasn’t going to have a parson.” Luther then wrote: “I should at once leave her and marry another,” should she categorically refuse compliance; in reality the authorities ought to coerce her, but unfortunately no authority “with ‘executio’ existed, having power over the ‘ministerium.’”[805]

Secondly, according to Luther, the adultery of one party justified the other in assuming that the “guilty party was already ipso facto divorced”; “he can then act as though his spouse had died,” i.e. marry again, though Christian considerations intimate that he should wait at least six months.[806]

Thirdly, if one party “will not suffer the other to live in a Christian manner,” then the other, finding a separation from bed and board of no avail, has the right to “make a change,” i.e. to contract another union. “But how,” he asks, “if this new spouse should turn out ill and try to force the other to live like a heathen, or in an unchristian manner, or should even run away; what then, supposing this thing went on three, four or even ten times?” Luther’s answer to the conundrum is the same as before: “We cannot gag St. Paul, and therefore we cannot prevent those who desire to do so from making use of the freedom he allows.” Luther’s conviction was that the well-known passage in 1 Corinthians vii. 15 sanctioned this dangerous doctrine.[807]

Fourthly, if subsequent to the marriage contract one party should prove to be physically unfit for matrimony, then, according to Luther, the marriage might be regarded as dissolved without any ecclesiastical suit solely by “conscience and experience.” He would in that case advise, he says, that the woman, with the consent of the man, should enter into carnal relations with someone else, for instance, with her partner’s brother, for her husband would really be no husband at all, but merely a sort of bachelor life-partner; this marriage might, however, be kept secret and the children be regarded as those of the putative father.[808] Even where it was not a question of impotence but of leprosy Luther decided in much the same way, without a word of reference to any ecclesiastical or legal suit: should the healthy party “be unable or unwilling to provide for the household” without a fresh marriage, and should the sick party “consent willingly to a separation,” then the latter was simply to be looked upon as dead, the other party being free to re-marry.[809]

To these grounds of separation Luther, however, added a fifth. He declared, on the strength of certain, biblical passages, that marriage with the widow of a brother—for which, on showing sufficient grounds, it was possible to obtain a dispensation in the Catholic Church—was invalid under all circumstances, and that therefore any person married on the strength of such a dispensation might conclude a fresh union. At first, in 1531, such was not his opinion, and he declared quite valid the marriage of Henry VIII. with his sister-in-law Catherine of Aragon, which was the outcome of such a dispensation; later on, however, in 1536, on ostensibly biblical grounds he discarded the Catholic view.[810]

His views, not here alone but elsewhere, on matrimonial questions, were founded on an altogether peculiar interpretation of Scripture; he sought in Scripture for the proofs he wished to find, interpreting the Sacred Text in utter disregard of the teaching of its best authorised exponents and the traditions of the Church. The consequences of such arbitrary exegetical study he himself described characteristically enough. Speaking of Carlstadt, who, like him, was disposed to lay great stress on Old-Testament examples and referring to one of his matrimonial decisions which he was not disposed to accept, Luther exclaims: “Let him [Carlstadt] do as he pleases; soon we shall have him introducing circumcision at OrlamÜnde and making Mosaists of them all.”[811]

Yet he was perfectly aware of the danger of thus loosening the marriage tie. He feared that fresh grounds for severing the same would be invented day by day.[812] On one occasion he exclaims, as though to stifle his rising scruples, that it was clear that all God cares for is “faith and confession.... It does not matter to Him whether you dismiss your wife and break your word. For what is it to Him whether you do so or not? But because you owe a duty to your neighbour,” for this reason only, i.e. on account of the rights of others, it is wrong.[813] These strange words, which have often been misunderstood and quoted against Luther by polemics, were naturally not intended to question the existence of the marriage tie, but they are dangerous in so far as they do not make sufficient account of the nature of the commandment and the sin of its breach.

Most momentous of all, however, was the sixth plea in favour of divorce, an extension of those already mentioned. Not merely the apostasy of one party or his refusal to live with the Christian party, justified the other to contract a fresh union, but even should he separate, or go off, “for any reason whatever, for instance, through anger or dislike.” Should “husband or wife desert the other in this way, then Paul’s teaching [!] was to be extended so far ... that the guilty party be given the alternative either to be reconciled or to lose his spouse, the innocent party being now free and at liberty to marry again in the event of a refusal. It is unchristian and heathenish for one party to desert the other out of anger or dislike, and not to be ready patiently to bear good and ill, bitter and sweet with his spouse, as his duty is, hence such a one is in reality a heathen and no Christian.”[814]

Thus did Luther write, probably little dreaming of the incalculable confusion he was provoking in the social conditions of Christendom by such lax utterances. Yet he was perfectly acquainted with the laws to the contrary. He declaims against “the iniquitous legislation of the Pope, who, in direct contravention of this text of St. Paul’s (1 Cor. vii. 15), commands and compels such a one, under pain of the loss of his soul, not to re-marry, but to await either the return of the deserter or his death,” thus “needlessly driving the innocent party into the danger of unchastity.” He also faces, quite unconcernedly, the difficulty which might arise should the deserter change his mind and turn up again after his spouse had contracted a new marriage. “He is simply to be disregarded and discarded ... and serve him right for his desertion. As matters now are the Pope simply leaves the door open for runaways.”[815]

The new matrimonial legislator refuses to see that he is paving the way for the complete rupture of the marriage tie. If the mere fact of one party proving disinclined to continue in the matrimonial state and betaking himself elsewhere is sufficient to dissolve a marriage, then every barrier falls, and, to use Luther’s own words of the Pope a little further, “it is no wonder that the world is filled with broken pledges and forsaken spouses, nay, with adultery which is just what the devil is aiming at by [such a] law.”[816]

On the other hand, Luther, in his reforms, attacks those matrimonial impediments which, from the earliest Christian times, had always been held to invalidate marriages. The marriage of a Christian with a heathen or a Jew he thinks perfectly valid, though, as was to be expected, he does not regard it with a friendly eye. We are not to trouble at all about the Pope’s pronouncements concerning invalidity: “Just as I may eat and drink, sleep and walk, write and treat, talk and work with a pagan or a Jew, a Turk or a heretic, so also can I contract a marriage with him. Therefore pay no heed to the fool-laws forbidding this.” “A heathen is just as much a man or woman as St. Peter, St. Paul or St. Lucy.”[817]

M. Rade, the Protestant theologian quoted above, considers that on the question of divorce Luther took up “quite a different attitude,” and “opened up new prospects” altogether at variance with those of the past.[818] By his means was brought about a “complete reversal of public opinion on the externals of sexual life”; in this connection to speak of original sin was in reality mere “inward contradiction.” Such were, according to him, the results of the “Christian freedom” proclaimed by Luther.[819]

August Bebel, in his book “Die Frau und der Sozialismus,” says of Luther: “He put forward, regarding matrimony, views of the most radical character.”[820] “In advocating liberty with regard to marriage, what he had in mind was the civil marriage such as modern German legislation sanctions, together with freedom to trade and to move from place to place.”[821] “In the struggle which it now wages with clericalism social democracy has the fullest right to appeal to Luther, whose position in matrimonial matters was entirely unprejudiced. Luther and the reformers even went further in the marriage question, out of purely utilitarian motives and from a desire to please the rulers concerned, whose powerful support and lasting favour they were desirous of securing and retaining. Landgrave Philip I. of Hesse, who was well disposed towards the reformation,” etc. etc.[822]

Polygamy.

Sanctity of marriage in the Christian mind involves monogamy. The very word polygamy implies a reproach. Luther’s own feelings at the commencement revolted against the conclusions which, as early as 1520, he had felt tempted to draw from the Bible against monogamy, for instance, from the example of the Old Testament Patriarchs, such as Abraham, whom Luther speaks of as “a true, indeed a perfect Christian.”[823] It was not long, however, before he began to incline to the view that the example of Abraham and the Patriarchs did, as a matter of fact, make polygamy permissible to Christians.

In September, 1523, in his exposition on Genesis xvi., he said without the slightest hesitation: “We must take his life [Abraham’s] as an example to be followed, provided it be carried out in the like faith”; of course, it was possible to object, that this permission of having several wives had been abrogated by the Gospel; but circumcision and the sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb had also been abrogated, and yet they “are not sins, but quite optional, i.e. neither sinful nor praiseworthy.... The same must hold good of other examples of the Patriarchs, namely, if they had many wives, viz. that this also is optional.”[824]

In 1523 he advanced the following: “A man is not absolutely forbidden to have more than one wife; I could not prevent it, but certainly I should not counsel it.” He continues in this passage: “Yet I would not raise the question but only say, that, should it come before the sheriff, it would be right to answer that we do not reject the example of the Patriarchs, as though they were not right in doing what they did, as the Manicheans say.”[825]

The sermons where these words occur were published at Wittenberg in 1527 and at once scattered broadcast in several editions. We shall have to tell later how the Landgrave Philip of Hesse expressly cited on his own behalf the passage we have quoted.

Meanwhile, however, i.e. previous to the printing of his sermons on Genesis, Luther had declared, in a memorandum of January 27, 1524, addressed to BrÜck, the electoral Chancellor, regarding a case in point, viz. that of an OrlamÜnde man who wished to have two wives, that he was “unable to forbid it”; it “was not contrary to Holy Scripture”; yet, on account of the scandal and for the sake of decorum, which at times demanded the omission even of what was lawful, he was anxious not to be the first to introduce amongst Christians “such an example, which was not at all becoming”; should, however, the man, with the assistance of spiritual advisers, be able to form a “firm conscience by means of the Word,” then the “matter might well be left to take its course.”[826] This memorandum, too, also came to the knowledge of Landgrave Philip of Hesse.[827]

Subsequently Luther remained faithful to the standpoint that polygamy was not forbidden but optional; this is proved by his Latin Theses of 1528,[828] by his letter, on September 3, 1531,[829] addressed to Robert Barnes for Henry VIII. and in particular by his famous declaration of 1539 to Philip of Hesse, sanctioning his bigamy.

His defenders have taken an unfinished treatise which he commenced in the spring of 1542[830] as indicating, if not a retractation, at least a certain hesitation on his part; yet even here he shows no sign of embracing the opposite view; in principle he held fast to polygamy and merely restricts it to the domain of conscience. The explanation of the writing must be sought for in the difficulties arising out of the bigamy of Landgrave Philip. Owing to Philip’s representations Luther left the treatise unfinished, but on this occasion he expressly admitted to the Prince, that there were “four good reasons” to justify his bigamy.[831]

Needless to say, views such as these brought Luther into conflict with the whole of the past.

Augustine, like the other Fathers, had declared that polygamy was “expressly forbidden” in the New Testament as a “crime” (“crimen”).[832] Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure speak in similar terms in the name of the scholasticism of the Middle Ages. Peter Paludanus, the so-called “Doctor egregius” († 1342), repeated in his work on the Sentences, that: “Under the Gospel-dispensation it never had been and never would be permitted.”[833]

It is, however, objected that Cardinal Cajetan, the famous theologian and a contemporary of Luther, had described polygamy as allowable in principle, and that Luther merely followed in his footsteps. But Cajetan does not deny that the prohibition pronounced by the Church stands, he merely deals in scholastic fashion with the questions whether polygamy is a contravention of the natural law, and whether it is expressly interdicted in Holy Scripture. True enough, however, he answers both questions in the negative.[834] In the first everything of course depends on the view taken with regard to the patriarchs and the Old Testament exceptions; the grounds for these exceptions (for such they undoubtedly were) have been variously stated by theologians. In the second, i.e. in the matter of Holy Scripture, Cajetan erred. His views on this subject have never been copied and, indeed, a protest was at once raised by Catharinus, who appealed to the whole body of theologians as teaching that, particularly since the preaching of the Gospel, there was no doubt as to the biblical prohibition.[835]

Thus, in spite of what some Protestants have said, it was not by keeping too close to the mediÆval doctrine of matrimony, that Luther reached his theory of polygamy.

It is more likely that he arrived at it owing to his own arbitrary and materialistic ideas on marriage. It was certainly not the Catholic Church which showed him the way; as she had safeguarded the sanctity of marriage, so also she protected its monogamous character and its indissolubility. In Luther’s own day the Papacy proved by its final pronouncement against the adultery of Henry VIII. of England, that she preferred to lose that country to the Church rather than sanction the dissolving of a rightful marriage (vol. iv., xxi. 1).

Toleration for Concubinage? Matrimony no Sacrament.

In exceptional cases Luther permitted those bound to clerical celibacy, on account of “the great distress of conscience,” to contract “secret marriages”; he even expressly recommended them to do so.[836] These unions, according to both Canon and Civil law, amounted to mere concubinage. Luther admits that he had advised “certain parish priests, living under the jurisdiction of Duke George or the bishops,” to “marry their cook secretly.”[837]

At the same time, in this same letter written in 1540, he explains that he is not prepared to “defend all he had said or done years ago, particularly at the commencement.” Everything, however, remained in print and was made use of not only by those to whom it was actually addressed, but by many others also; for instance, his outrageous letter to the Knights of the Teutonic Order who were bound by vow to the celibate state. Any of them who had a secret, illicit connection, and “whoever found it impossible to live chastely,” he there says, “was not to despair in his weakness and sin, nor wait for any Conciliar permission, for I would rather overlook it, and commit to the mercy of God the man who all his life has kept a pair of prostitutes, than the man who takes a wife in compliance with the decrees of such Councils.” “How much less a sinner do you think him to be, and nearer to the grace of God, who keeps a prostitute, than the man who takes a wife in that way?”[838]

Of the Prince-Abbots, who, on account of the position they occupied in the Empire, were unable to marry so long as they remained in the monastery, he likewise wrote: “I would prefer to advise such a one to take a wife secretly and to continue as stated above [i.e. remain in office], seeing that among the Papists it is neither shameful nor wrong to keep women, until God the Lord shall send otherwise as He will shortly do, for it is impossible for things to remain much longer as they are. In this wise the Abbot would be safe and provided for.”[839]

Here again we see how Luther’s interest in promoting apostasy from Rome worked hand in hand with the lax conception he had been led to form of marriage.

Of any sacrament of matrimony he refused to hear. To him marriage was really a secular matter, however much he might describe it as of Divine institution: “Know, that marriage is an outward, material thing like any other secular business.”[840] “Marriage and all that appertains to it is a temporal thing and does not concern the Church at all, except in so far as it affects the conscience.”[841] “Marriage questions do not concern the clergy or the preachers, but the authorities; theirs it is to decide on them”; this, the heading of one of the chapters of the German Table-Talk, rightly describes its contents.[842]

In Luther’s denial of the sacramental character of matrimony lies the key to the arbitrary manner in which, as shown by the above, he handled the old ecclesiastical marriage law. It was his ruling ideas on faith and justification which had led him to deny that it was a sacrament. The sacraments, in accordance with this view, have no other object or effect than to kindle in man, by means of the external sign, that faith which brings justification. Now marriage, to his mind, was of no avail to strengthen or inspire such faith. As early as 1519 he bewails the lack in matrimony of that Divine promise which sets faith at work (“quae fidem exerceat”),[843] and in his Theses of February 13, 1520, he already shows his disposition to question its right to be termed a sacrament.[844] In his work “On the Babylonish Captivity” of the same year he bluntly denies its sacramental character, urging that the Bible was silent on the subject, that matrimony held out no promise of salvation to be accepted in faith, and finally that it was in no way specifically Christian, since it had already existed among the heathen.[845] He ignores all that the Fathers had taught regarding marriage as a sacrament, with special reference to the passage in Ephesians v. 31 ff., and likewise the ancient tradition of the Church as retained even by the Eastern sects separated from Rome since the fifth century.

In advocating matrimony, instead of appealing to it as a sacrament, he lays stress on its use as a remedy provided by God against concupiscence, and on its being the foundation of that family life which is so pleasing to God. Incidentally he also points out that it is a sign of the union of Christ with the congregation.[846]

Luther did not, as has been falsely stated, raise marriage to a higher dignity than it possessed in the Middle Ages. No more unjustifiable accusation has been brought against Catholic ages than that marriage did not then come in for its due share of recognition, that it was slighted and even regarded as sinful. Elsewhere we show that the writings dating from the close of the Middle Ages, particularly German sermonaries and matrimonial handbooks, are a direct refutation of these charges.[847]

Luther on Matters Sexual.

Examples already cited have shown that, in speaking of sexual questions and of matters connected with marriage, Luther could adopt a tone calculated to make even the plainest of plain speakers wince. It is our present duty to examine more carefully this quality in the light of some quotations. Let the reader, if he chooses, look up the sermon of 1522, “On Conjugal Life,” and turn to pages 58, 59, 61, 72, 76, 83, 84; or to pages 34, 35, 139, 143, 144, 146, 152, etc., of his Exposition of Corinthians.[848] We are compelled to ask: How many theological or spiritual writers, in sermons intended for the masses, or in vernacular works, ever ventured to discuss sexual matters with the nakedness that Luther displays in his writing “Wyder den falsch genantten geystlichen Standt des Bapst und der Bischoffen” (1522), in which through several pages Luther compares, on account of its celibacy, the Papacy with the abominable Roman god Priapus.[849] In this and like descriptions he lays himself open to the very charge which he brings against the clergy: “They seduce the ignorant masses and drag them down into the depths of unchastity.”[850] He thus compares Popery to this, the most obscene form of idolatry, with the purpose of placing before the German people in the strongest and most revolting language the abomination by which he will have it that the Papacy has dishonoured and degraded the world, through its man-made ordinances. Yet the very words in which he wrote, quite apart from their blatant untruth, were surely debasing. In the same writing he also expresses himself most unworthily regarding the state of voluntary celibacy and its alleged moral and physical consequences.[851]

Here again it has been urged on Luther’s behalf, that people in his day were familiar with such plain speaking. Yet Luther himself felt at times how unsuitable, nay, revolting, his language was, hence his excuses to his hearers and readers for his want of consideration, and also his attempt to take shelter in Holy Writ.[852] That people then were ready to put up with more in sermons is undeniable. Catholic preachers are to be met with before Luther’s day who, although they do not speak in the same tone as he, do go very far in their well-meant exhortations regarding sexual matters, for instance, regarding the conjugal due in all its moral bearings. Nor is it true to say that such things occur only in Latin outlines or sketches of sermons, intended for preacher rather than people, for they are also to be found in German sermons actually preached. This disorder even called forth a sharp rebuke from a Leipzig theologian who was also a great opponent of Luther’s, viz. Hieronymus Dungersheim.[853]—In none of the Catholic preachers thus censured, do we, however, find quite the same seasoning we find in Luther, nor do they have recourse to such, simply to spice their rhetoric or their polemics, or to air new views on morality.

His contemporaries even, more particularly some Catholics, could not see their way to repeat what he had said on sexual matters.[854] “It must be conceded” that Luther’s language on sexual questions was “at times repulsively outspoken, nay, coarse, and that not only to our ears but even to those of his more cultured contemporaries.” Thus a Protestant writer.[855] Another admits with greater reserve: “There are writings of Luther’s in which he exceeds the limits of what was then usual.”[856]

Certain unseemly anecdotes from the Table-Talk deserve to be mentioned here; told in the course of conversation while the wine-cup went the rounds, they may well be reckoned as instances of that “buffoonery” for which Melanchthon reproves Luther. Many of them are not only to be found in Bindseil’s “Colloquia” based on the Latin collection of Lauterbach, and in the old Latin collection of Rebenstock, but have left traces in the original notes of the Table-Talk, for instance, in those of Schlaginhaufen and Cordatus. It is not easy to understand why Luther should have led the conversation to such topics; in fact, these improper stories and inventions would appear to have merely served the company to while away the time.

For example, Luther amuses the company with the tale of a Spandau Provost who was a hermaphrodite, lived in a nunnery and bore a child;[857] with another, of a peasant, who, after listening to a sermon on the use of Holy Water as a detergent of sin, proceeded to put what he had heard into practice in an indecent fashion;[858] with another of self-mutilated eunuchs, in telling which he is unable to suppress an obscene joke concerning himself.[859] He entertains the company with some far from witty, indeed entirely tactless and indecent stories, for instance, about the misfortune of a concubine who had used ink in mistake for ointment;[860] of the Beghine who, when violence was offered her, refused to scream because silence was enjoined after Compline;[861] of a foolish young man’s interview with his doctor;[862] of an obscene joke at the expense of a person uncovered;[863] of a young man’s experience with his bathing dress;[864] of women who in shameless fashion prayed for a husband;[865] of the surprise of Duke Hans, the son of Duke George of Saxony, by his steward, etc.[866]

These stories, in Bindseil’s “Colloquia,” are put with the filthy verses on Lemnius,[867] the “Merdipoeta,” and form a fit sequence to the account of Lustig, the cook, and the substitute he used for sauces.[868]

These anecdotes are all related more or less in detail, but, apart from them, we have plentiful indelicate sayings and jokes and allusions to things not usually mentioned in society, sufficient in fact to fill a small volume.

Luther, for instance, jests in unseemly fashion “amid laughter” on the difference in mind and body which distinguishes man from woman, and playfully demonstrates from the formation of their body that his Catherine and women in general must necessarily be deficient in wit.[869] An ambiguous sally at the expense of virginity and the religious life, addressed to the ladies who were usually present at these evening entertainments, was received with awkward silence and a laugh.[870]

On another occasion the subject of the conversation was the female breasts, it being queried whether they were “an ornament” or intended for the sake of the children.[871] Then again Luther, without any apparent reason, treats, and with great lack of delicacy, of the circumstances and difficulties attending confinement;[872] he also enters fully into the troubles of pregnancy,[873] and, to fill up an interval, tells a joke concerning the womb of the Queen of Poland.[874]

In the Table-Talk Luther takes an opportunity of praising the mother’s womb and does so with a striking enthusiasm, after having exclaimed: “No one can sufficiently extol marriage.” “Now, in his old age,” he understood this gift of God. Every man, yea, Christ Himself, came from a mother’s womb.[875]

Among the passages which have been altered or suppressed in later editions from motives of propriety comes a statement in the Table-Talk concerning the Elector Johann Frederick, who was reputed a hard drinker. In Aurifaber’s German Table-Talk the sense of the passage is altered, and in the old editions of Stangwald and Selnecker the whole is omitted.[876]

Of the nature of his jests the following from notes of the Table-Talk gives a good idea: “It will come to this,” he said to Catherine Bora, “that a man will take more than one wife.” The Doctoress replied: “Tell that to the devil!” The Doctor proceeded: Here is the reason, Katey: a wife can have only one child a year, but the husband several. Katey replied: “Paul says: ‘Let everyone have his own wife.’ Whereupon the Doctor retorted: ‘His own,’ but not ‘only one,’ that you won’t find in Paul. The Doctor teased his wife for a long time in this way, till at last she said: ‘Sooner than allow this, I would go back to the convent and leave you with all the children.’”[877]

When the question of his sanction of Philip of Hesse’s bigamy and the scandal arising from it came under discussion, his remarks on polygamy were not remarkable for delicacy. He says: “Philip (Melanchthon) is consumed with grief about it.... And yet of what use is it?... I, on the contrary am a hard Saxon and a peasant.... The Papists could have seen how innocent we are, but they refused to do so, and so now they may well look the Hessian ‘in anum.’ ... Our sins are pardonable, but those of the Papists, unpardonable; for they are contemners of Christ, have crucified Him afresh and defend their blasphemy wittingly and wilfully. What are they trying to get out of it [the bigamy]? They slay men, but we work for our living and marry many wives.” “This he said with a merry air and amid much laughter,” so the chronicler relates. “God is determined to vex the people, and if it comes to my turn I shall give them the best advice and tell them to look Marcolfus ‘in anum,’” etc.[878] On rising from table he said very cheerfully: “I will not give the devil and the Papists a chance of making me uneasy. God will put it right, and to Him we must commend the whole Church.”[879] By such trivialities did he seek to escape his burden of oppression.

On one occasion he said he was going to ask the Elector to give orders that everybody should “fill themselves with drink”; then perhaps they would abandon this vice, seeing that people were always ready to do the opposite of what was commanded; what gave rise to this speech on drinking was the arrival of three young men, slightly intoxicated, accompanied by a musical escort. The visitors interrupted the conversation, which had turned on the beauty of women.[880]

Many of Luther’s letters, as well as his sermons, lectures and Table-Talk, bear sad witness to his unseemly language. It may suffice here to mention one of the most extraordinary of these letters, while incidentally remarking, that, from the point of view of history, the passages already cited, or yet to be quoted, must be judged of in the light of the whole series, in which alone they assume their true importance. In a letter written in the first year of his union, to his friend Spalatin, who though also a priest was likewise taking a wife, he says: “The joy at your marriage and at my own carries me away”; the words which follow were omitted in all the editions (Aurifaber, De Wette, Walch), Enders being the first to publish them from the original. They are given in the note below.[881]

Luther himself was at times inclined to be ashamed of his ways of speaking, and repeatedly expresses regret, without, however, showing any signs of improvement. We read in Cordatus’s Diary that (in 1527, during his illness) “he asked pardon for the frivolous words he had often spoken with the object of banishing the melancholy of a weak flesh, not with any evil intent.”[882] At such moments he appears to have remembered how startling a contrast his speeches and jests presented to the exhortation of St. Paul to his disciples, and to all the preachers of the Gospel: “Make thyself a pattern to all men ... by a worthy mode of life; let thy conversation be pure and blameless” (Titus ii. 7 f.). “Be a model to the faithful in word, in act, in faith and charity, in chastity” (1 Tim. iv. 12).

It would be wrong to believe that he ever formally declared foul speaking to be permissible. It has been said that, in any case in theory, he had no objection to it, and, that, in a letter, he even recommends it. The passage in question, found in an epistle addressed to Prince Joachim of Anhalt, who was much troubled with temptations to melancholy, runs thus: “It is true that to take pleasure in sin is the devil, but to take pleasure in the society of good, pious people in the fear of God, sobriety and honour is well pleasing to God, even with possibly a word or ‘ZÖtlein’ too much.”[883] The expression “ZÖtlein” (allied with the French “sottise”) did not, however, then bear the bad meaning suggested by the modern German word “Zote,” and means no more than a jest or merry story; that such a meaning was conveyed even by the word “Zote” itself can readily be proved.

Especially was it Luther’s practice to load his polemics with a superabundance of filthy allusions to the baser functions of the body; at times, too, we meet therein expressions and imagery positively indecent.

Even holy things were not safe in Luther’s hands, but ran the risk of being vilified by outrageous comparisons and made the subject of improper conversations.

Thus does Luther jumble together unseemly fancies, coarse concessions to sensuality and praise for broken vows, with thoughts of the Divine.

Anyone who regards celibacy and monastic vows from the Catholic standpoint may well ask how a man intent on throwing mud at the religious state, a man who had broken his most sacred pledges by his marriage with a nun, could be in a position rightly to appreciate the delicate blossoms which in every age have sprung up on the chaste soil of Christian continence in the lives of countless priests and religious, not in the cloister alone, but also in the world without?

Of his achievements in this field, of his having trodden celibacy under foot, Luther was very proud. To the success of his unholy efforts he himself gave testimony in the words already mentioned: “I am like unto Abraham [the Father of the Faithful] for I am the progenitor of all the monks, priests and nuns [who have married], and of all the many children they have brought into the world; I am the father of a great people.”[899]

By his attacks on celibacy and the unseemliness of his language Luther, nevertheless, caused many to turn away from him in disgust. Duke Anton Ulrich of Brunswick, who reverted to Catholicism in 1710, states in a writing on the step he had taken, that it was due to some extent to his disgust at Luther’s vulgarity. “What writer,” he says, “has left works containing more filth?... Such was his way of writing that his followers at the present day are ashamed of it.” He had compared the character of this reformer of the Church, so he tells us, with that of the apostolic men of ancient times. In striking contrast they were “pious, God-fearing men, of great virtue, temperate, humble, abstemious, despising worldly possessions, not given to luxury, having only the salvation of souls before their eyes”; particularly did they differ from Luther in the matter of purity and chastity.[900]

6. Contemporary Complaints. Later False Reports

Those of his contemporaries who speak unfavourably of Luther’s private life belong to the ranks of his opponents. His own followers either were acquainted only with what was to his advantage, or else took care not to commit themselves to any public disapproval. To give blind credence in every case to the testimony of his enemies would, of course, be opposed to the very rudiments of criticism, but equally alien to truth and justice would it be to reject it unheard. In each separate case it must depend on the character of the witness and on his opportunity for obtaining reliable information and forming a just opinion, how much we credit his statements.

Concerning the witnesses first to be heard, we must bear in mind, that, hostile as they were to Luther, they had the opportunity of seeing him at close quarters. How far their statements are unworthy of credence (for that they are not to be taken exactly at their word is clear enough) cannot be determined here in detail. The mere fact, however, that, at Wittenberg and in Saxony, some should have written so strongly against Luther would of itself lead us to pay attention to their words. In the case of the other witnesses we shall be able to draw some sort of general inference from their personal circumstances as to the degree of credibility to be accorded them. While writers within Luther’s camp were launching out into fulsome panegyrics of their leader, it is of interest to listen to what the other side had to say, even though, there too, the speakers should allow themselves to be carried away to statements manifestly exaggerated.

Not all the above accusations are entirely baseless, for some are confirmed by other proofs quite above suspicion. The charge of habitual drunkenness, as will be shown below (xvii. 7), must be allowed to drop; so likewise must that of having been a glutton and of having constantly pandered to sensual passion; that Luther sanctioned immorality among his friends and neighbours can scarcely be squared with his frequent protests against the disorders rife at the University of Wittenberg; finally, we have to reduce to their proper proportions certain, in themselves justifiable, subjects of complaint. That, however, everything alleged against him was a pure invention of his foes, only those can believe whom prejudice blinds to everything which might tell against their hero.

The charges of the Swiss theologians, though so strongly expressed, refer in the main to Luther’s want of restraint in speech and writing; the vigour of their defensive tactics it is easy enough to understand, and, at any rate, Luther’s writings are available for reference and allow us to appreciate how far their charges were justified.

Another necessary preliminary remark is that no detailed accusation was ever brought against Luther of having had relations with any woman other than his wife; nothing of this nature appears to have reached the ears of the writers in question. Due weight must here be given to Luther’s constant anxiety not to compromise the Evangel by any personal misconduct. (See vol. ii., p. 133.) Luther, naturally enough, was ever in a state of apprehension as to what his opponents might, rightly or wrongly, impute to him. That he was liable to be misrepresented, particularly by foreigners (Aleander [vol. ii., p. 78] and Catharinus), is plain from the examples given above. The distance at which Catharinus resided from Wittenberg led him to lend a willing ear to the reports brought by “reliable men,” needless to say opponents of Luther.

The deep dislike felt by faithful Catholics for the Wittenberg professor and their lively abhorrence for certain moral doctrines expressed by him in extravagant language,[924] formed a fertile soil for the growth of legends; some of these, met with amongst the literary defenders of Catholicism after Luther’s death, have been propagated even in modern times, and accordingly call for careful examination at the hands of the Catholic critic. Where Luther himself speaks we are on safe ground, as the method employed above shows. Where, however, we have to listen to strangers doubt must needs arise, and the task of discriminating becomes inevitable, owing to the speaker’s probable prejudice either for or against Luther. This applies, as we have already seen, even to Luther’s contemporaries, but it holds good even more as we approach modern times, when, in the heat of controversy, things were said concerning alleged historical facts, for instance, Luther’s immorality, which were certainly quite unknown to his own contemporaries. Many of Luther’s accusers had never read his works, possibly had not even troubled to look up a single one of the facts or passages cited. We must, however, remember—a fact which serves to some extent to explain the regrettable lack of exactitude and discernment—that the prohibition of reading Luther’s writings was on the whole strictly enforced by the authorities of the Church and conscientiously obeyed by the faithful, even by writers. Only rarely in olden days[925] were dispensations granted. Thus, when attacking Luther, writers were wont to utilise passages quoted by earlier writers, often truncated excerpts given without the context. Misunderstood or entirely incorrect accounts of events connected with his life were accepted as facts, of which now, thanks to his works and particularly to his letters, we are in a better position to judge. Many seemed unaware that the misunderstandings were growing from age to age, the reason being that instead of taking as authorities the best and oldest Luther controversialists, those of a later date were preferred in whose writings facts and quotations had already undergone embellishment. In this wise the older popular literature came to attribute to Luther the strangest statements and to make complaints for which no foundation existed in fact. Incautious interpretation by more recent writers, whose training scarcely fitted them for the task and who might have learnt better by consulting Luther’s works and letters, has led to a still greater increase of the evil.

In the following pages we propose to examine rather more narrowly certain statements which appear in the older and also more recent controversial works.

Had Luther three children of his own apart from those born of his union with Bora?

Luther and Catherine Bora.

Did Luther indulge in “the Worst Orgies” with the Escaped Nuns in the Black Monastery of Wittenberg?

To give an affirmative reply to this would call for very strong proofs, which, in point of fact, are not forthcoming. The passage in the Latin Table-Talk[932] quoted in justification contains nothing of the sort, but, strange to say, a very fine exhortation to continence. For this reason we must again consider it, though it has already been dealt with. The exhortation commences with the words: “God is Almighty, Eternal, Merciful, Longsuffering, Chaste, etc. He loves chastity, purity, modesty. He aids and preserves it by the sacred institution of marriage in order that [as Paul says] each one may possess his vessel in sanctification, free from unbridled lust. He punishes rape, adultery, fornication, incest and secret sins with infamy and terrible bodily consequences. He warns such sinners that they shall have no part in the Kingdom of God. Therefore let us be watchful in prayer,” etc. It is true, however, that this pious exhortation is set off by frivolous remarks, and it is probably one of these which suggested the erroneous reference. Luther here speaks of his young “relative,” Magdalene Kaufmann—a girl of marriageable age living in his house—and of two other maidens of the same age, remarking that formerly people had been ready for marriage at an earlier age than now, but that he was ready to vouch for the fitness of these three wenches for conjugal work, even to staking his wife on it, etc. Of any “wicked orgies” we hear nothing whatever. Further, it is inexact to state, as has been done, that Luther was surrounded in “his dwelling” by nuns whom he had given a lodging. Neither before nor after his marriage did they stay with him permanently; as already stated (vol. ii., p. 138) he either handed over the escaped nuns to their friends or lodged them in families at Wittenberg. Only on one occasion, in September, 1525, when in the hurry it was impossible to find accommodation for a new band of fugitives, did he receive them temporarily, possibly only for a few days, in the great “Black Monastery.”[933] There, as he himself then expressed it, he was “privatus pater familias.”

The Passages “which will not bear repetition.”

Two other assertions to Luther’s disadvantage have something in common; one represents as the starting-point of the whole movement which he inaugurated his desire to “wed a girl”; the other makes him declare, three years before the end of his life and as the sum-total of his experience, that the lot of the hog is the most enviable goal of happiness.[936] A third statement goes back to his early youth and seeks to find the explanation of his later faults in a temptation succumbed to when he was little more than a boy. The facts, alleged to belong to his early history, may be taken in connection with kindred matters and examined more carefully than was possible when relating the details of his early development. After that we shall deal with the story of the “hog.”

Did Luther, as a Young Monk, say that he would push on until he could wed a Girl?

Luther’s stay as a boy in Cotta’s house at Eisenach no ground for a charge of immorality.

Did Luther describe the lot of the Hog as the most enviable Goal of Happiness?

We may here glance at some charges in which his moral character is involved, brought against certain doctrines and sayings of Luther.

Did Luther allow as valid Marriage between Brother and Sister?

Did Luther Recommend People to Pray for Many Wives and Few Children?

God Almighty, Thou art good,
Give us coat and mantle and hood,

*****

Many a cow and many a ewe,
Plenty of wives and children few.

Explicit: A small wage
Makes the year to seem an age.

Potent stallions, portly oxen,
Buxom women, plenty children.

Did Luther include Wives in the “Daily Bread” of the Our Father?

Was Luther the originator of the proverb: “Who loves not woman, wine and song remains a fool his whole life long”?

7. The “Good Drink”

Among the imputations against Luther’s private life most common among early controversial writers was that of being an habitual drunkard.

On the other hand, many of Luther’s Protestant supporters down to our own day have been at pains to defend him against any charge of intemperance. Even scholarly modern biographers of Luther pass over this point in the most tactful silence, or with just the merest allusion, though they delight to dwell on his “natural enjoyment of life.”

The following pages may help to show the failings of both methods, of that pursued by Luther’s opponents, with their frequently quite unjustifiable exaggerations, and of that of his defenders with their refusal to discuss even the really existing grounds for complaint.[966] To begin with, Luther’s enemies must resign themselves to abandon some of the proofs formerly adduced for his excessive addiction to drink.

Unsatisfactory Witnesses.

Other Witnesses, Friendly and Hostile.

Before proceeding to scrutinise in detail the more cogent testimonies, we may remark that one trait in Luther’s character, that namely which caused him to be called the “merry boon companion,” might possibly be invoked in support of the charge now under consideration.

It was his struggle with the gloomy moods to which he was so prone that drove Luther into cheerful company and to seek relief in congenial conversation and in liquor. That he was not over-scrupulous concerning indulgence in the latter comfort is attested by his own words, viz. that he was too fond of jests and convivial gatherings (“iocis aut conviviis excedere”), and that the world had some grounds for taking offence (“inveniat in me quo offendatur et cadat”).[975] Yet he was very desirous of avoiding such accusations on the part of his opponents, though, as he puts it, they “calumniate even what is best and most inoffensive.”[976] When he says elsewhere in his usual gross way: “They spy out everything that concerns me, and no sooner do I pass a motion than they smell it at Rome,”[977] this exclamation was called forth by the scandalous excess in drinking of which a member of his family was habitually guilty.

Then, again, the drinking habits of the Germans of those days must be borne in mind. A man had to be a very hard drinker to gain the reputation of being a drunkard. Instances will be given later showing how zealously Luther attacked the vice of drunkenness in Germany. At that time a man (even though a theologian or other person much exposed to the gaze of the public) was free to imbibe far more than was good for him without remarks being made or his conduct censured.

Luther’s extraordinary industry and the astounding number of his literary productions must likewise not be lost sight of. We are compelled to ask ourselves whether it is likely that the man who wrote works so numerous and profound, in the midst, too, of the many other cares which pressed on him, was addicted to habitual drunkenness. How could the physical capacity for undertaking and executing such immense labours, and the energy requisite for the long, uninterrupted religious and literary struggle into which Luther threw himself, be found in one who unceasingly quenched an excessive thirst with alcoholic drink? Kawerau has sketched Luther’s “colossal mental productivity” during the one year 1529, a year in which he was not engaged in any of his accustomed literary feuds.[978] Works published during that year cover, in the Weimar edition, 287 pages, in imperial octavo, his lectures on Deuteronomy 247 pages and the notes of his sermons (some, however, in duplicate) 824 pages. In addition to this he was at work on his German translation of the Old Testament, completing the Pentateuch and making a beginning with the remaining historical books. Besides this he wrote in that year countless letters, of which comparatively few, viz. 112, are still extant. He also undertook five short journeys lasting together about a fortnight.

During the short and anxious period, amounting to 173 days, which he spent, in 1530, in the Castle of Coburg (it is to this time that some of the charges of excessive drinking refer), he wrote and forwarded to the press various biblical expositions which in the Erlangen edition occupy 718 pages in small octavo, re-wrote in its entirety “Von den SchlÜsseln,” a work of 87 pages, was all the while busy with his translation of Jeremias, of a portion of Ezechiel and all the minor Prophets, and finally wrote at least the 128 letters and memoranda which are still extant.[979] Yet, for whole days during this sojourn in the Coburg, he was plagued with noises in the head and giddiness, results, no doubt, of nervous excitement.

That such productivity would not have been possible “without meditation and study”[980] is, however, not quite true in his case. Luther wrote most of his works without reflection and without any real study, merely jotting down carelessly whatever his lively fancy suggested.

Thus we may rightly ask whether the accusation of habitual participation in drinking-bouts and constant private excess is compatible with the work he produced.

In the case of reports of an unfavourable nature it is of course necessary to examine their origin carefully; this unfortunately is not always done. As we already had occasion to remark when dealing with the imputations against his moral character, it makes all the difference whether the witness against him is a Catholic opponent or represents the New Evangel. Amongst Catholics, again, we must discriminate between foreigners, who were ignorant of German customs and who sometimes wrote merely on hearsay, and Luther’s German compatriots. We shall not characterise the method of those of Luther’s defenders who simply refuse to listen to his opponents on the ground that, one and all, they are prejudiced.

Wolfgang Musculus (MÄuslin), an Evangelical theologian, in the account of a journey in May, 1536, during which he had visited Luther, gives an interesting and unbiassed report of what he saw at Wittenberg.[981] On May 29, Luther came, bringing with him Melanchthon and Lucas Cranach, to dine as MÄuslin’s guest at the inn where he was staying. There all had their share of the wine. “When dinner was over,” says the chronicler, “we all went to the house of Master Lucas, the painter, where we had another drink....[982] After this we escorted Luther home, where we drank in true Saxon style. He was marvellously cheerful and promised everything most readily” (i.e. probably all that Musculus proposed concerning the agreement to be come to with the Zwinglians, of whom Musculus was one). The allusion to the “Saxon style” reminds us of Count Hoyer’s reference to the “custom at Mansfeld” (vol. ii., p. 131). Luther’s country does not seem to have been noted for its temperance.

Melanchthon, as one of his pupils relates in the “Dicta Melanchthoniana,” tells how on a certain day in March, 1523: “Before dinner (‘ante coenam’)” Luther, with two intimates, Justus Jonas and Jacob Probst, the Pastor of Bremen, arrived at Schweinitz near Wittenberg. Here, owing to indigestion, “cruditas,” Luther was sick in a room. In order to remove the bad impression made on the servant who had to clean the apartment, Jonas said: “Do not be surprised, my good fellow, the Doctor does this sort of thing every day.” By this he certainly did not mean, as some have thought, that Luther was in the habit of being sick every day as the result of drink; he was merely trying to shield his friend in an embarrassing situation by alleging a permanent illness. Pastor Probst, however, according to Melanchthon’s story, betrayed Jonas by exclaiming: “What a fine excuse!” Jonas thereupon seized him by the throat and said: “Hold your tongue!” At table the pastor was anxious to return to the matter, but Jonas was able to cut him short. Melanchthon concludes the story with a touch of sarcasm: “Hoc est quando posteriora intelliguntur ex prioribus.” Was the sickness in this case due to previous drinking?

A letter, written by Luther himself, perhaps will help to explain the matter. On the eve of his return to Wittenberg he writes from Schweinitz on Oculi Sunday, March 8, 1523, to his friend the Court Chaplain Spalatin, that he had come to Schweinitz, where the Elector’s castle stood, in order to celebrate with the father the baptism of the son of a convert Jew named Bernard. “We drank good, pure wine from the Elector’s cellar,” he says; “we should indeed be grand Evangelicals if we feasted to the same extent on the Evangel.... Please excuse us to the Prince for having drunk so much of his GrÜneberger wine (‘quod tantum vini Gornbergici ligurierimus’). Jonas and his wife greet you, also the godfathers, godmothers and myself; three virgins were present, certainly Jonas, for, as he has no child, we call him a virgin.”[983] The letter, curiously disconnected and containing such strange jests, quite gives the impression of having been written after such a festive gathering as that described by the writer.

In connection with Melanchthon’s story some Protestants have recently urged that, in 1523, Luther was subject to attacks of “sudden indisposition” which came on him in the morning and from which he found relief in vomiting, and that the above incident is explained by this circumstance; the fact that he was sick “before the meal and after a lengthy drive proves that we have to do with a result not of intemperance but of nervous irritation.” Of such “sudden indispositions” arising from nervousness we, however, hear nothing, either during that year or for long after. None of the sources mention anything of the kind. On the contrary, at Whitsun, 1523, Luther wrote to Nicholas Hausmann that he felt “fairly well” (“satis bene valeo”); that he was of a nervous temperament is of course true, but that the morning hours were, as a rule, his worst we only begin to learn from his letters in 1530 and 1532; there, moreover, he does not mention sickness, but merely “giddiness and the attacks of Satan,” which were wont to come on him before breakfast, (“prandium,”[984] a meal taken about 9 or 10 a.m.). Melanchthon’s story speaks, however, not of the morning at all, but of the time before the “coena” (i.e. the principal meal, taken about 5 p.m.), when Luther was presumably no longer fasting.

Still, it would be better not to lay too much stress on this isolated particular incident.[985]

Next in the series of statements coming from preachers of the new Evangel, we meet that of Johann Agricola, who, according to Thiele, in the recently discovered notes of his (above, p. 216), when he had already separated from Luther, represents him as a “drunken profligate,” “who gave the rein to his passions and whom only his wife’s sway could influence for good.” Agricola says that Luther had contemptuously put aside certain letters of his, but “at last read them one morning before the wine had mounted to his head (‘mane, nondum vino calefactus’). Then he showed himself willing to take me into favour again”; this being the result of Katey’s intercession.

After this we have the testimony of the Swiss theologian, Leo JudÆ, who, as Kolde tells us,[986] in the letter to Bucer quoted above (p. 277) and dated April 24, 1534, “reproaches Luther with drunkenness and all manner of things, and declares that such a bishop he would not tolerate even in the tiniest diocese.”

Valentine Ickelsamer, in 1525, voices the “fanatics,” whom Luther was attacking so vigorously, in his complaint, that the latter was “careless and heedless amidst all our needs, and spent his time in utter unconcern with the beer-swillers”; before this he had already said: “I am well acquainted with your behaviour, having been for a while a student at Wittenberg; I will, however, say nothing of your gold finger-ring, which gives scandal to so many people, or of the pleasant room overlooking the water where you drink and make merry with the other doctors and gentlemen.”[987] Neither Ickelsamer nor his friends formulate against Luther any explicit charge of startling or habitual excess. His daily habits, as just depicted, seemed to them to be at variance with his claim to being a divinely appointed preacher, called to raise mankind to higher things, but this was chiefly on account of their own peculiar narrow mysticism. It was from the same standpoint that, wishing to absolve himself from the charge of “inciting to rebellion,” Thomas MÜnzer, in 1524, writes in his “Schutzrede”[988] against the “witless, wanton lump of flesh at Wittenberg,” also twitting Luther with his “luxurious living” (vol. ii., p. 131), i.e. the daintiness of his food.

With regard to Simon Lemnius, it will suffice to refer to the passage already adduced (p. 274): “Luther boasts of being an evangelical bishop; how then comes it that he lives so far from temperately, being wont to surfeit himself with food and drink?” It is unnecessary to repeat how much caution must be exercised in appealing to this writer’s statements.

Among Catholic critics the first place is taken by the theologian, Ambrosius Catharinus, an Italian who lived far from Germany. His statement regarding Luther’s dancing and drinking has already been given (p. 276). This, together with many other of his strictures[989] on Luther’s teaching and work, were collected by CochlÆus. Catharinus was present at the Council of Trent from 1546-1547 and such reports as these may there have reached his ears. That Luther danced, or as Catharinus says, even led the dances, is not vouched for in any source. Only concerning Melanchthon have we a credible report, that he “sometimes danced.” On the other hand, we do know that Luther was frequently present at balls, weddings, christenings and other such occasions when food and drink were to be had in plenty. So distinguished and pleasant a guest was naturally much in demand, as Luther himself tells us on several occasions.

Luther’s letter to Spalatin, on January 14, 1524, concerning the (real or imaginary) agent sent by King Ferdinand to enquire into his life at Wittenberg, also speaks of the report carried to Court of his intercourse with women and habits of drunkenness (vol. ii., p. 132 f.).

Shortly before, in 1522, Count Hoyer of Mansfeld, a Catholic, wrote in a letter to Count Ulrich of Helfenstein, brought to light by a Protestant historian, “that Luther was a thorough scoundrel, who drank deeply, as was the custom at Mansfeld, played the lute, etc.” (vol. ii., p. 131). If, as we find recounted elsewhere, Luther, on his journey to the Diet, and at Worms itself, partook freely of the costly wines in which his enthusiastic friends pledged him, this was, after all, no great crime. It is probable, however, that some worse tales to Luther’s discredit in this matter of drinking had come to Hoyer’s ear.

At the time of the Diet of Worms, Aleander, the Papal Legate there present, indeed writes that Luther was “addicted to drunkenness,”[990] but the credulous diplomat probably trusted to what he heard from parties hostile to Luther and little acquainted with him. (See vol. ii., p. 78 f.) It is also a fact that, to Italians imbued with the idea that the Germans were drunkards, even quite moderate drinking might seem scandalous.

CochlÆus says of Luther in 1524: “According to what I hear, in his excessive indulgence in beer, Luther is worse than a debauchee.”[991] Here again we have merely an echo of statements made by strangers, albeit in this instance stronger and more positive.—Less weight is to be attached to the account of Jacob Ziegler of Landau, who writes from Rome to Erasmus on February 16, 1522, that there Luther was regarded as “given to fornication and tippling,” adding that he was considered as the precursor of Antichrist.[992]—Of the inhabitants of Wittenberg generally Ulrich Zasius complains, in a letter of December 21, 1521, to Thomas Blaurer, that it was reported they ran almost daily to communion but afterwards swilled beer to such an extent that they were unable to recognise each other.[993] To his other charges against the life led there and against the heads of the movement, Blaurer replied, but, curiously enough, the complaint of drunkenness he does not even refer to.[994] From the detailed description given by a Catholic Canon of Wittenberg on December 29, 1521, we do, however, learn that the greatest abuses prevailed in connection with the Supper, and that some even communicated who had previously been indulging in brandy.[995]

The last witness had nothing to say of Luther personally. On the other hand, another does state that, the night before his death, he was “plane obrutus potu.” This, however, comes from a later writer, who lived far away and has shown himself otherwise untrustworthy.[996]

Another less unreliable report also has to do with Luther’s death-bed. Johann Landau, the Mansfeld apothecary, who was a Catholic, and had occasion to handle Luther’s corpse, left the following in the notes he made: “In consequence of excessive eating and drinking the body was full of corrupt juices,” Luther had “exceeded in the use of sweet foreign wines.” “It is said,” he continues, “that he drank every day at noon and in the evening a sextar of rich foreign wine.”[997] This statement does not appear to be restricted to the last days of Luther’s life, which were spent with Count Mansfeld. It is well known that Luther died after a meal. What amount the “sextar” and the “stuebchen,” to be mentioned immediately, represented has not yet been determined, as the measures differed so much in various parts of the country. The sextar, according to G. Agricola, was usually a quarter of the stuebchen, as, according to him, twenty-four sextars or six stuebchen went to one amphora; the sextar itself contained four gills.[998] In a letter of Luther’s, dating from the period of his stay at Mansfeld, we find the following: “We live well here,” he writes to Katey, “and the council allows me for each meal half a gallon of excellent Rheinfall. Sometimes I drink it with my companions. The wine produced here is also good and the Naumburg beer quite capital.”[999] Rheinfall (more correctly Reinfal) was a southern wine then highly prized.[1000] Luther, as a rule, preferred to keep to Naumburg beer.[1001]

Luther’s Own Comments on the “Good Drink.”

The following statements of Luther’s concerning his indulgence in spirituous liquors are especially noteworthy; of these some have been quoted without sufficient attention being paid to their real meaning.

“Know that all goes well with me here,” Luther writes in 1540 from Weimar to his Katey, who was anxious about him; “I feed like a Bohemian, and swill like a German, for which God be thanked, Amen.”[1002] Soon after he repeats, in a letter to the same addressee, the phrase which has since grown famous, this time in a slightly amended form: Know “that we are well and cheerful here, thanks be to God; we feed like Bohemians, though not too much, and swill like Germans, not deeply but with jollity.”[1003] He is fond of thus speaking of his “feeding and swilling,” though, such expressions being less unconventional then than now, stress must not be laid on them. In both letters he was clearly seeking by his jests to reassure his wife, who was concerned for his health. During his last weeks at Eisleben he also wrote to Katey: “We have plenty on which to feed and swill.”[1004]

“If the Lord God holds me excused,” he says in a famous utterance in the Table-Talk, “for having plagued Him for quite twenty years by celebrating Mass, He assuredly will excuse me for sometimes indulging in a drink to His honour; God grant it and let the world take it as it will.”[1005]

Of the last decade of Luther’s life his pupil Mathesius relates, that, in the evening, “if not inclined for sleep, he had to take a draught to promote it, often making excuse for so doing: ‘You young fellows must not mind if our Elector and an old chap like me take a generous drink; we have to try and find our pillow and our bolster in the tankard.’”[1006] The same witness relates another utterance of about the same time: “He came home from a party and drank the health of a guest: ‘I must make merry to-day, for I have received bad tidings; for this there is no better cure than a fervent Paternoster and a brave heart. For the demon of melancholy is much put out when a man insists upon being merry.’”[1007]

Here we have two reasons, want of sleep and depression resulting from bad news, which induced him to have a “good drink.” A third reason was furnished by his temptations to doubt and vacillate in faith. The “good drink” must not, however, be too deep as it “recently was at the Electoral couchee at Torgau, where, not satisfied with the usual measures, they pledged each other in half-gallon cans. That they called a good drink. Sic inventa lege inventa est et fraus legis.”[1008]

Luther’s advice to his pupil Hieronymus Weller, when the latter was tempted and troubled, as stated above (p. 175), was to follow his example and “to drink deeper and jest more freely,” and to answer the devil when he objected to such drinking, that “he would drink all the more because he forbade it”; he himself (Luther), for no other reason, was wont to drink more deeply and talk more freely than to scorn the devil by his “hard drinking.”[1009] “When troubled with gloomy thoughts,” he declared on another occasion, it was his habit “to have a good pull at the beer”; Melanchthon had a different sort of remedy, viz. consulting the stars; Luther, however, considered his practice the better one.[1010]

These and such-like utterances circulated far and wide, often in a highly exaggerated form, and Luther had only himself to thank if many Catholics, on the strength of them, came to regard him as a regular drunkard. This impression was in no way diminished by the rough humour which accompanied his talk of eating and drinking. People then were perfectly acquainted with the fact that the Table-Talk was regarded, even by some enthusiastic Lutherans, as only a half revelation, the truth being that they did not make sufficient allowance for Luther’s vein of humour and exaggeration.

It was, however, quite seriously that Luther spoke in August, 1540, when the excessive drinking of the miners was discussed at table: “It is not well,” he said, “but if they work hard for the rest of the week, then we must allow them some relaxation (at the week-end). Their work is hard and very dangerous and some allowance must be made for the custom of the country. I, too, have an occasional tipple, but not everybody must follow my example, for not all have the work to do that I have.”[1011] Here, accordingly, we have a fourth reason alleged in excuse of his drinking, possibly the most usual and practical one, viz. his fatiguing work.—In May of the same year he expressed his opinion of the extent to which drinking might be allowable in certain circles; this he did because he had been accused of not reproving drunkenness at the Court: “On the contrary,” he says, “I have spoken strongly about it before the whole Court; truly I spoke forcibly and severely to the nobles, reproaching them with tempting and corrupting the Prince. This greatly pleased the old gentleman [the Elector Johann], for he lived temperately.... I said to the nobles: ‘You ought to employ yourselves after dinner in the PalÆstra or in some other good exercise, after which you might have a good drink, for drinking is permissible, but drunkenness never (ebrietas est ferenda, sed ebriositas minime).’”[1012] “Cheerful people,” he said in May or June, “may sometimes indulge more freely in wine,” but if drinking makes a man angry, he must avoid it like “poison.” These words were meant for his nephew, Hans Polner, who was in the habit of returning to Luther’s house much the worse for drink. With him Luther was very wroth: “On your account I am ill-spoken of by foreigners. My foes spy out everything that goes on about me.... When you do some mischief while drunk, you forget what shame you are bringing not only upon me and on my house, but on the town, the Church and the Evangel. Others after a drinking-bout are merry and friendly; such was the case with my father; they simply sing and jest; but you, you fly into a rage.”[1013]

Luther, when preaching to the people, often denounced the prevalent habit of drinking, a circumstance which must not be overlooked when passing judgment upon him. The German vice of drunkenness which he saw increasing around him in the most alarming manner caused him such distress, that he exclaimed in one of his postils: “Our poor German land is chastised and plagued with this devil of drink, and altogether drowned in this vice, so that life and limb, possessions and honour, are shamefully lost while people lead the life of swine, so that, had we to depict Germany, we should have to show it under the image of a sow.”[1014] Only “the little children, virgins and women” were exempt from the malady; “unless God strikes at this vice by a national calamity everything will go down to the abyss, all sodden through and through with drink.”[1015] Was this the way to be grateful “to the light of the Evangel” which had burst upon Germany?[1016] His question shows that he was speaking primarily of the conditions prevailing under the new Evangel. Looking back on the Catholic past he has perforce to admit, that, although this vice was by no means unknown then, yet “I remember that when I was young it [drunkenness] was looked upon by the nobility as a great shame, and that worthy gentry and Princes sought to combat it by wise prohibitions and penalties; but now it is even worse and more prevalent amongst them than amongst the peasants; so far has it come that even Princes and men of gentle birth learn it from their squires, and are not ashamed of it; it is regarded as honourable and quite a virtue by Princes, nobles and burghers, so that whosoever refuses to become a sodden brute is despised.”[1017]

In powerful passages such as these he assails the vice from both the natural and the supernatural standpoint. Yet his chief complaint is not so much its existence as its appalling extent; his reproofs are intended for those who “get drunk daily,” for those “maddened and sodden with drink,” for those who “day and night are ever pouring the liquor down their throats.” He expressly states that he is willing to be lenient in cases where a man is drunk only now and again. “It may be borne with and overlooked,” he says in the sermon quoted, “if from time to time a person by mistake takes a glass too much, or, after being exhausted by labour and toil, gets a little the worse for drink.”[1018]

In 1534, in an exposition of Psalm ci., where he describes the doings of the “Secular Estate,” he is no less hopeless concerning this plague which afflicts Germany: “Every country must have its own devil; our German devil is a good skin of wine and surely his name is Swill”; until the last day eternal thirst would remain the German’s curse; it was quite useless to seek to remedy matters, Swill still remained the all-powerful god.[1019] More dignified language would assuredly have been better in place here and elsewhere where he deals with this subject. For quaint homeliness it would, however, be hard to beat him; referring to their drinking habits, he tells the great men at the Court: “In the morning you really look as though your heads had been pickled in brine.”[1020] Yet, from the very passage in the Table-Talk where this is recounted, we learn that he said to the guests, again in a far too indulgent strain: “The Lord God must account the drunkenness of us Germans a mere daily [i.e. venial] sin, for we are unable to give it up; nevertheless, it is a shameful curse, harmful alike to body, soul and property.”

Witnesses to Luther’s Temperate Habits.

Within Luther’s camp the chief witnesses to his temperate habits are Melanchthon and Mathesius.

That Luther was perfectly content “without anything out of the common” is confirmed by other writers, and concerning the general frugality of his household there can be no question. In this respect we may well believe what Mathesius says, for he was a regular attendant at Luther’s evening table in the forties of the century. His assertion that Luther “drank but little” must, however, be considered in the light of other of his statements.

What Mathesius thought of the “sleeping-draught” and the feasts at which, so he relates, Luther assisted from time to time, appears from a discourse incorporated by him in his “Wedding-sermons.” Here he speaks of the “noble juice of the grape and how we can make use of it in a godly fashion and with a good conscience”; he is simply the mouthpiece of Luther. Like Luther, he condemns gluttony and “bestial drunkenness,” but is so indulgent in the matter of cheerful carousing that a Protestant Canon in the eighteenth century declared, that Mathesius had gone astray in his sermon on the use of wine.[1023] Mathesius says that we must have “a certain amount of patience” with those who sometimes, for some quite valid reason, “get a little tipsy,” or “kick over the traces,” provided they “don’t do so every day” and that “the next morning they are heartily sorry for it”; the learned were quite right in distinguishing between “ebriositas” and “ebrietas”; if a ruling Prince had worked industriously all day, or a scholar had “read and studied till his head swam,” such busy and much-tired people, if they chose “in the evening to drink away their cares and heavy thoughts, must be permitted some over-indulgence, particularly if it does not hinder them in the morning from praying, studying and working.”[1024]

This is the exact counterpart of Luther’s theory and practice as already described, in the distinction made between “ebriositas” and “ebrietas,” in the statement that drunkenness is no more than a venial sin, in the unseemly and jocose tone employed when speaking of tipsiness, and in the license accorded those who (like Luther) had much work to do, or (again, like Luther), were plagued with “gloomy thoughts.” The other conditions are also noteworthy, viz. that it must not be of “daily occurrence” and that the offender must afterwards be “heartily sorry”; in such a case we must be tolerant. All this agrees with Luther’s own teaching.

Such passages, coming from the master and his devoted disciple, must be taken as the foundation on which to base our judgment. Such general statements of principle must carry more weight than isolated instances of Luther’s actual practice, more even than the various testimonies considered above. In the eyes of the impartial historian, moreover, the various elements will be seen to fit into each other so as to form a whole, the elements being on the one hand the highly questionable principle we have just heard expressed, and on the other his own admissions concerning his practice, supplemented by the testimony of outsiders.

In the first place, there is no doubt that his theory was dangerously lax. We need only call to mind the string of reasons given in vindication of a “good drink” and mere “ebrietas.” Such excuses were not only insufficient but might easily be adduced daily in ever-increasing number. Luther’s limitation of the permission to occasional bouts, etc., was altogether illusory and constituted no real barrier against excess. How could such theories, we may well ask, promote temperance and self-denial? Instead of resisting the lower impulses of nature they give the reins to license. They are part and parcel of the phenomenon so noticeable in early Lutheranism, where Christian endeavour, owing to the discredit with which penance and good works were overwhelmed, was not allowed to rise above the level of ordinary life, and indeed often failed to attain even to this standard. How different sound the injunctions of Christ and His Apostles to the devoted followers of the true Gospel: Take up thy cross; resist the flesh and all its lusts; be sober and watch.

The result as regards Luther’s practice must on the whole be considered as unfavourable, though it is not of course so well known to us as his theory. It may also, quite possibly, have varied at different periods of his life, for instance, may not have been the same when Mathesius was acquainted with him, i.e. when his mode of life had become more regular, as when Count Hoyer of Mansfeld wrote so scornfully after the Diet of Worms. Nevertheless, Luther’s vigorous denunciation of habitual drunkenness on the one hand, and the extraordinary amount of work he contrived to get through on the other, also the absence of any very damaging or definite charge by those who had every opportunity of observing him at Wittenberg, for instance, the hostile Anabaptists and other “sectarians,” all this leads us to infer, that he availed himself of his theories only to a very limited extent. His own statements, however, as well as those of his friends and opponents, enable us to see that his lax principle, “ebrietas est ferenda,” was not without its effects upon his habits of life. The allegation of his joy of living, and his healthy love of the things of sense, does not avail to explain away his own admissions, nor what others laid to his charge. The worst of it is, that we gain the impression that the lax theory was conceived to suit his own case, for all the reasons which he held to excuse the “good drink” and the subsequent “ebrietas” were present in his case—depression caused by bad news, cares and gloomy thoughts, pressure of work, temptations to sadness and doubts, sleeplessness and mental exhaustion.

From the Cellar and the Tap-Room.

The task remains of considering certain further traits in Luther’s life with regard to his indulgence in drinking.

During the first part of his public career Luther himself speaks of the temptation to excessive eating and drinking and other bad habits to which he was exposed. This he did in 1519 in his remarkably frank confession to his superior Staupitz.[1025] Here the expression “crapula” must be taken more seriously than on another occasion when, in a letter to a friend written from the Wartburg in the midst of his arduous labours, he describes himself as “sitting idle, and ‘crapulosus.’”[1026]

After Luther’s marriage, when he had settled down comfortably in the Black Monastery, it was Catherine, who, agreeably with the then custom, brewed the beer at home. It seems, however, to have been of inferior quality, indeed not fit to set before his guests. That he had several sorts of wine in his cellar we learn on the occasion of the marriage of his niece Lena in 1538. He complains that in Germany it was very hard to buy “a really trustworthy drink,” as even the carriers adulterated the wines on the way.[1027]

As already stated, beer was his usual drink. Whilst he was “drinking Wittenberg beer with Philip and Amsdorf,” he said as early as 1522, in a well-known passage, “the Papacy had been weakened through the Word of God” which he had preached.[1028]

It was, however, with wine that on great occasions the ample “Catechismusglas” (see above, p. 219) was filled.[1029] How much this bowl contained which Luther, though not his guest Agricola, could empty at one draught, has not been determined, though illustrations of it were thought to exist. Agricola’s statement concerning his vain attempt to drain it leads us to conclude that the famous glass was of considerable size. It impresses one strangely to learn that Luther occasionally toasted his guests in a crystal beaker reputed to have once belonged to St. Elizabeth of Hungary; this too, no doubt, passed from hand to hand.[1030]

An example of Luther’s accustomed outspokenness was witnessed by some of those who happened to be present on the arrival of a Christmas gift of wine in 1538. The cask came from the Margrave of Brandenburg and, to the intense disappointment of the recipient, contained Franconian wine. Luther, in spite of the importance of the gift, made no secret of his annoyance, and his complaints would appear to have duly reached the ear of the Margrave. In order to efface the bad impression made at Court, Luther was obliged to send a letter of excuse to Sebastian Heller, the Chancellor. Therein he says he had been quite unaware of the excellence of Franconian wine, and, “like the big fool” he was, had not known that the inhabitants of Franconia were so fortunate in their wine as now, after tasting it, he had ascertained to be the case. In future he was going to stick to Franconian wine; to the Prince he sent his best thanks and trusted he would take nothing amiss.[1031]—From the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, after he had forwarded him his memorandum regarding his bigamy, he received a hogshead of Rhine wine.[1032] In the same year he received from the Town Council of Wittenberg a present of a gallon of Franconian “and four quarts of Gutterbogk wine” on the occasion of the marriage of his niece, mentioned above.

From the magistrates, in addition to other presents, came frequent gifts of liquor for himself and his guests, of which we find the entries since 1519 recorded in the Town-registers.

Only recently has attention been drawn to this.[1033]

In 1525 we find the following items: “7 Gulden for six cans of Franconian wine at 14 Groschen the quart presented Doctori Martino on his engagement; 136 Gulden, 6 Groschen for a barrel of Einbeck beer presented Doctori Martino for his wedding; 440 Gulden Doctori Martino for wine and beer presented by the Council and the town on the occasion of his nuptials and wedding. Fine of 120 Gulden paid by Clara, wedded wife of Lorenz Eberhard dwelling at Jessen for abusive language concerning Doctor Martin and his honourable wife, and also for abusing the Pastor’s [Bugenhagen] wife at Master Lubeck’s wedding; 136 Gulden, 2 Groschen for wine sent for during the year by Doctor Martin from the town vaults and paid for by the Council.” In addition to the various “presents” made by the Council, we meet repeatedly in other years with items recording deliveries of beer or wine which Luther had sent for from the town cellar. These are entered as “owing.... The Council loath to sue him for them....” And again, “allowed to Doctor Martin this year....”

This explains the low items for liquor in Luther’s own list of household expenses, which were frequently quoted in proof of his exceptional abstemiousness. As a matter of fact, they are so small simply owing to the presents and to his requisitions on the town cellars, for much of which he never paid. “Four pfennigs daily for drink” we read in his household accounts in a Gotha MS., the date of which is uncertain.[1034] Seeing that at Wittenberg a can of beer cost 3 pfennigs, this would allow him very little. According to another entry Katey required 56 pfennigs weekly for making the beer; the date of this is equally uncertain. It is to the filial devotion of Protestant researchers that we owe this information.[1035]

Luther was in a particularly cheerful mood when he wrote, on March 18, 1535, the letter, already quoted (p. 296 f.), to his friend Caspar MÜller, the Mansfeld Chancellor at Eisleben. The letter is to some extent a humorous one, but is it really a fact that in the last of the three signatures appended he qualifies himself as “Doctor plenus”?[1036] According to some controversialists such is the case.

It is true that Denifle says of this signature, now-preserved with the letter in the Vatican Library,[1037] “that the badly written and scarcely legible word ... either reads or might be read as ‘plenus.’”[1038] According to R. Reitzenstein, on the other hand, who also studied them, the characters cannot possibly be read thus. E. Thiele, who mentions this, suggests[1039] that perhaps we might read it as “Doctor Hans,” and that the signature in question might refer to Luther’s little son who was with him and whose greetings with those of the mother Luther sends at the end of the letter to MÜller, who was the child’s godfather.

First comes the legible signature “Doctor Martinus” in Luther’s handwriting; below this, also quite legible, stands “Doctor Luther,” possibly denoting his wife, as Thiele very reasonably conjectures; finally we have the questionable “Doctor plenus.” To read “Hans” instead of “plenus,” is, according to Denifle, “quite out of the question,” as I also found when I came to examine the facsimile published by G. Evers in 1883.[1040] On the other hand, to judge by the facsimile, it appeared to me that “Johannes” might possibly be the true reading, and the Latin form also seemed to agree with that of the previous signatures. When I was able to examine the original in Rome in May, 1907, I convinced myself that, as a matter of fact, the badly formed and intertwined characters could be read as “Johannes”; this reading was also confirmed by Alfredo Monaci, the palÆologist.[1041] Hence the reading “Doctor plenus,” too confidently introduced by Evers and repeated by Enders, though with a query, in his edition of Luther’s letters, may safely be consigned to oblivion. Even had it been correct, it would merely have afforded a fresh example of Luther’s jokes at his own expense, and would not necessarily have proved that his mirth was due to spirituous influence.

In one letter of Luther’s, which speaks of the time he passed in the Castle of Coburg, we hear more of the disagreeable than of the cheering effects of wine.

“I have brought on headache by drinking old wine in the Coburg,” he complains to his friend Wenceslaus Link, “and this our Wittenberg beer has not yet cured. I work little and am forced to be idle against my will because my head must have a rest.”[1042] In the Electoral accounts 25 Eimer of wine are set down for the period of Luther’s stay at the Coburg;[1043] seeing that he and two companions spent only 173 days there, our Protestant friends have hastened to allege “the frequent visits he received” in the Coburg.[1044] It is true that he had a good many visitors during the latter part of his stay. However this may be, the illness showed itself as early as May, 1530. His own diagnosis here is no less unsatisfactory than the accounts concerning the other maladies from which he suffered. No doubt the malady was chiefly nervous.

In October of that same year, Luther protested that he had been “very abstemious in all things”[1045] at the Coburg, and Veit Dietrich, his assistant at that time, wrote in the same sense on July 4: “I carefully observed that he did not transgress any of the rules of diet.”[1046] His indisposition showed itself in unbearable noises in the head, at times accompanied by extreme sensitiveness to light.[1047] Luther was convinced that the trouble was due to the qualities of the strong wines provided for him at the castle—or, possibly, to the devil. “We are very well off,” he says in June, 1530, “and live finely, but for almost a month past I have been plagued not only with noises but with actual thundering in my head, due, perhaps, to the wine, perhaps to the malice of Satan.”[1048] Veit Dietrich inclined strongly to the latter view. He tells us of the apparition of a “flaming fiery serpent” under which form the devil had manifested himself to Luther during his solitude in the Coburg: “On the following day he was plagued with troublesome noises in his head; thus the greater part of what he suffered was the work of the devil.”[1049] Luther himself complained in August of a fresh indisposition, this time scarcely due to nerves, which, according to him, was the result either of wine, or of the devil. “I am troubled with a sore throat, such as I never had before; possibly the strong wine has increased the inflammation, or perhaps it is a buffet of Satan [2 Cor. xii. 7].”[1050] Four days later he wrote again: “My head still buzzes and my throat is worse than ever.”[1051] In the following month some improvement showed itself, and even before this he had days free from suffering; still, after quitting the Coburg, he still complained of incessant headache caused, as he thought, by the “old wine.” When all is said, however, it does seem that later controversialists were wrong in so confidently attributing his illness in the Coburg merely to excessive love of the bottle.

Luther often vaunted the wholesome effects of beer. In a letter to Katey dated February 1, 1546, he extols the aperient qualities of Naumburg beer.[1052] In another to Jonas, dated May 15, 1542, he speaks of the good that beer had done in relieving his sufferings from stone; beer was to be preferred to wine; much benefit was also to be derived from a strict diet.[1053]

All these traits from Luther’s private life, taken as a whole, may be considered to confirm the opinion expressed above, p. 311 f., regarding the charges which may stand against him and those of which he is to be acquitted.