Luther, vol. 6 of 6

It will be noticed that III and IV resemble each other and both conclude with a mention of the tower (as in Schlaginhaufen I). At the beginning, however, each adds a few words of his own not found in Schlaginhaufen. Cordatus adds a parenthesis about the “locus secretus,” i.e. privy (whether the marks of parenthesis are merely the work of the editor we cannot say, nor whether the parenthetic sentence is supposed to represent Luther’s actual words or is an explanation given by Cordatus himself). At any rate the words really add nothing new to Schlaginhaufen’s account, if we bear in mind the latter’s allusion at the end to the “cloaca” and the fact that Cordatus omits to refer to this place at the end of his account. Hence we seem to have a simple transposition. As to why Cordatus should have transposed the words, we may not unreasonably conjecture that, in his estimation, they stood in the earlier form in too unpleasant proximity with the reception of the revelation.

Lauterbach’s text, even if we overlook the words it adds after “credenti,” betrays an effort after literary polish; it can scarcely be an independent account and most likely rests on Schlaginhaufen. One allusion is, however, of importance, viz. the words “in hac turri et [in Rebenstock’s version: vel] hypocausto” which here replace the mention of the cloaca or privy. Here the “hypocaustum” signifies either a heating apparatus or a heated room.

In Rörer the whole text has been still further polished up. He agrees with II in leaving out the “in hac turri,” but, with I, in introducing the “cloaca” at the end. The words “in horto” which are inserted in his handwriting just above would seem to be his own addition due to his knowledge of the spot (the tower really stood partly in the garden).

Other interpretations of the texts in question: Kawerau (p. 62 f.) takes Lauterbach’s “hypocaustum” to refer to Luther’s workroom in the tower, which Luther had retained since his monkish years and from which “he stormed the Papacy.” Unfortunately, in the references given by Kawerau, we find no allusion to any such prolonged residence in a room in the tower.

Luther himself once casually alludes to two different “hypocausta” (or warmed rooms) in the monastery. According to a letter dated in Nov., 1527 (“Briefwechsel,” 6, p. 117), whilst the Plague was raging, he put up his ailing son Hans in “meo hypocausto,” whilst the wife of Augustine Schurf, the professor of medicine, when she was supposed to have contracted the malady, was also accommodated in a “hypocaustum” of her own. For another sick lady, Margareta von Mochau, he found room “in hybernaculo nostro usitato,” and, with his family, took up his own lodgings “in anteriore magna aula.” Hans’s “hypocaustum” was probably the traditional room furnished with a stove still shown to-day as Luther’s (Köstlin-Kawerau, 2, p. 491). Unfortunately this room is not near the town-wall, or the tower, but on the opposite side of the building. There is another allusion elsewhere (Feb. 14, 1546, “Briefe,” 5, p. 791) to a “hypocaustum,” but, there again, no reference is made to its being situated in the tower.

An undated saying in Aurifaber’s German Table-Talk, in which Luther expresses a fear for the future of his “poor little room” “from which I stormed the Pope” (Erl. ed., 62, p. 209; Förstemann, 4, p. 474) might refer to any room. As a monk Luther is not likely to have had a warmed cell of his own but merely the use of the common-room of the community. He himself speaks of what he suffered from the cold (above, p. 194); elsewhere he tells us of the noise once made by the devil “in the chimney” of the refectory (above, p. 125) to which Luther had betaken himself to prepare his lecture, presumably for the sake of more warmth.

In vol. i. (p. 397) we perhaps too hastily assumed the “necessary building” to have been a privy which Luther, in 1519, asked permission to erect. It may even have been the “pleasant room overlooking the water” in which Luther “drank and made merry”—to the great disgust of the fanatic Ickelsamer. (See above, vol. iii., p. 302.) Being new it would no doubt have been “pleasant” and no doubt, too, it also had a fire-place. It may be conjectured that, possibly Lauterbach, with his allusion to the “tower” and the “hypocaustum” was intending to suggest this room as the scene of the revelation rather than the more ignoble locality of which Cordatus speaks.

Others have sought to escape the disagreeable meaning of the text in other ways. Wrampelmeyer interpreted it figuratively: The tower was Popery and the “hypocaustum” Luther’s spiritual “sweat bath.” Preger did much the same and even more. He says: “I hold that ‘Cl.,’ from which abbreviation the other readings seem to have sprung[!], stands for ‘Capitel’ [i.e. chapter].” Even Harnack inclines to this latter view. The meaning would then be: “This art the Holy Ghost revealed unto me on this chapter” (of the Epistle to the Romans). But, apart from the clumsiness of such a construction, as it was pointed out by Kawerau, such an abbreviation as “Cl.” for “capitel” or “capitulum” is unheard of. With even less reason Scheel tentatively makes the suggestion to read “Cl.” as “claustrum,” or “cella.”

Kawerau admits that “Cl.” stands for “cloaca,” but he urges that it arose through a misunderstanding on Schlaginhaufen’s part of Cordatus’s “secretus locus”—as though Schlaginhaufen was likely to depend on second-hand information regarding an utterance he had heard himself.

Kawerau further points out, that the locality in which the revelation was received is, after all, of no great moment, that “the stable at Bethlehem was not unworthy of witnessing God’s revelation in Christ”; Scheel, likewise, asks whether all Christians, even those of the Roman persuasion, do not believe that God is present everywhere? They certainly do, and nothing could have been further from our intentions than any wish to prejudice the case by making the locality of the incident a “capital question.” Had Luther received his supposed revelation on Mount Thabor, or on Sinai, or before the altar of the Schlosskirche we can assure our critics that we should have faithfully recorded the testimonies with the same regard for historical truth.

7. The Indulgence-Theses

In vol. i. (p. 332) and vol. ii. (p. 16) we insinuated that Luther wilfully concealed the true character of his 95 Theses. Whereas, in reality, his system had no room for Indulgences at all, in the Theses he chose to veil his opinions under an hypothetical form. It has, however, been objected that Luther’s letters to Spalatin and to Scheurl, of Feb. 15 and March 5, 1518, prove that his views were not yet fixed.

But this is scarcely a true presentment of the case. In his private letter to Spalatin he openly brands Indulgences as an “illusion.”

He tells Spalatin not to bother about gaining Indulgences but rather to give his money to the poor, otherwise he will deserve the wrath of God. All would be demonstrated in the forthcoming “Resolutiones”; only the “ipsa rudiores ruditate” still assail him as a heretic, etc. (“Briefwechsel,” 1, p. 155.) From these words his true opinion emerges clearly enough, in spite of the previous ones: “Hæc res in dubio adhuc pendet et mea disputatio inter calumnias fluctuat,” and in spite, too, of his assurance to the Court-preacher, that he had not the slightest wish to bring the Prince under any suspicion of being unfriendly to the Church.

As to the letter sent a fortnight later to Scheurl at Nuremberg, the historian must bear in mind the effect it was calculated by Luther to produce at Nuremberg, where some were evidently inclined to find fault with the Theses. In this letter, just as he does in his letter to Bishop Scultetus (above, vol. ii., p. 16) Luther makes out the Theses to be quite innocent, almost impartial, and, moreover, in no wise intended for the outside public. They were to be the subject-matter of a Disputation, “ut multorum iudicio vel damnatæ abolerentur vel probatæ ederentur.” He is sorry now that they were made so public. “Sunt enim nonnulla mihi dubia, longeque aliter et certius quædam asseruissem vel omisissem, si id [their publication] futurum sperassem.” He also adds: “Mihi sane non est dubium, decipi populum, non per indulgentias, sed usum earum” (“Briefwechsel,” 1, p. 166.) Here he seeks to depict his downright antagonism to Indulgences as such, as merely directed against their abuse.

8. The Temptations at the Wartburg

Luther writes to Melanchthon (July 13, 1521): “Carnis meæ indomitæ uror magnis ignibus; summa, qui fervere spiritu debeo, ferveo carne, libidine, pigritia, otio.” He adds that for a whole week he had been “tentationibus carnis vexatus,” and concludes: “Ora pro me, peccatis enim immergor in hac solitudine.” In his letter of Nov. 1, 1521, to Nic. Gerbel, the temptations are also alluded to, but less clearly qualified.

Though, in the former text, there is undoubtedly an element of exaggeration (as we pointed out, vol. ii., p. 88), yet there can be no question that his main complaint relates to temptations of the flesh and that it is in their regard that he asks for prayers of his friends.

9. Prayer at the Wartburg

Against us it has been said that we were too disposed to make of Luther a “prayerless” man. One critic, in proof of Luther’s prayerfulness, points out that, in his Wartburg letters, Luther uses the word “Amen” no less than thirteen times in the text, apart from its use at the end of the letters. Now, in all the Epistles of St. Paul—which cover far more paper than these Wartburg letters—the word “Amen” occurs in the text only eleven times. But, notoriously, Luther was accustomed to use this word in rather unusual connections, as he does for instance when speaking of the wife of the “theologus coniugatus” Johann Agricola (“Dominus det, ut uteri onus feliciter exponat. Amen.” “Briefwechsel,” 3, p. 151).

Moreover, Luther’s prayers were very peculiar. We hear nothing of his having used his enforced stay at the Wartburg to ask of God whether the path he had chosen was the right one, and for the grace to carry out, not his own will, but that of God. In the interests of his new doctrine, he is, however, “paratus ire quo Dominus volet, sive ad vos sive alio.” (“Briefwechsel,” 3, p. 193.) He asks a friend to pray “ut non deficiat fides mea in Domino,” i.e. that his views may not change (ib., p. 214); “commenda, quæso, tuis orationibus Deo causam nostram.” (Ib., p. 324.) Elsewhere he writes:

above all, in Emser, whom he calls a “vas diaboli proprie obsessum.” (Ib., 3, p. 197.)

10. Luther’s state during his stay at the Coburg

In addition to the troubles mentioned in vol. ii., p. 390, which tended to depress Luther at the Coburg there were yet others. He felt keenly the separation from his family and from those with whom he had been accustomed to work. His father’s death was also a cause of sadness to him. Finally the difficulties of corresponding with his friends at Augsburg were responsible for his being often in a state of uncertainty as to what was going on at the Diet.

11. Luther’s moral character

Exception has been taken to our interpretation (vol. ii., p. 161, n. 1) of a certain utterance of Luther’s. In the “Comment. on Galat.,” 1, p. 107 sq., he says:

But, in these words written in his old age, he is not witnessing to his virtuous life in former days, but, on the contrary, he is striving to show that, for all its outward propriety, it was the merest blasphemy. Moreover, the words “servabam … obedientiam,” etc., cannot be taken too literally, as Luther himself elsewhere admits that he was careless about the Office, though this was a matter on which the Rule was very severe. A more appropriate self-justification would be the utterance recorded in Veit Dietrich’s MS. of the Table-Talk (Bl. 83) which begins: “Monachus ego non sensi multam libidinem.”

A man’s speech is in some sense an index to his character. Our volumes teem with samples of the filthy expressions to which Luther was addicted. No theologian or preacher had hitherto dared to speak as he did; the Franciscans Johann Pauli and Thomas Murner—albeit by no means too particular—certainly cannot compare with Luther on this score. Moreover, it should not be forgotten that Luther uses such language chiefly as a weapon against his Catholic foes without, and the Protestant “sectarians” within. In his polemics, insults and foul speaking go hand in hand, and the greater his wrath the fouler his speech.

In connection with one instance of his use of unseemly comparisons when (above, vol. ii., p. 144) we spoke of his allusion to the “Bride of Orlamünde” we were not aware that—as Kawerau now points out—Staupitz, his old superior, had described in very free language the nature of the union between the soul and her divine Bridegroom. (“Von der endlichen Vollziehung ewiger Fürsehung,” 1516.) Such mystical effusions were very apt to be misinterpreted by the unlearned fanatics, whom Luther ridicules.

12. Luther’s views on lies

That Luther believed in the permissibility of “lies of convenience” is fairly evident. (Cp. above, vol. iv., p. 108 ff.) The “mendacium officiosum” is an “honestum et pium mendacium”; it is useful and wholesome; “si hoc peccatum esset, ut non puto, etc.” In “Opp. lat. exeg.,” 6, p. 289, speaking of Isaac’s statement that Rebecca was his sister, he says: “non est peccatum, sed est officiosum mendacium.” But, if it be no sin, then, presumably, it is allowed.

It is true that Luther speaks of Isaac’s untruth as an “infirmitas,” but, by this, he does not mean a “venial sin,” rather he is alluding to the “infirmitas fidei,” which, in Isaac’s case was the cause of his untruth. Hence Isaac’s untruth, according to Luther, comes under the category of the

Hence the “mendacium officiosum,” far from being a sin, is an “officium caritatis,” i.e. to tell one is “servare, non transgredi, præcepta Dei.” (Ib., p. 288 sq.)

Even another text which has been quoted to the opposite effect must mean much the same. Luther says:

Here the word “peccata” cannot well include such untruths since he distinctly affirms that such “infirmities” “do not offend God.”

Moreover, since, as we know, Luther admits no distinction between mortal and venial sins, holds that all sins “ex natura et substantia peccati” are equal, and makes no allowance for “parvitas materiæ,” it follows that, even if such untruths as those of Isaac, the Egyptian midwife, etc., are “infirmities,” yet, since they are not mortal, they are not sins at all.

In “Opp. lat. exeg.,” 3, pp. 140-143, Luther distinguishes the “iocosum mendacium”—which is merely a “grammaticum peccatum”—and the “officiosum mendacium”—such as was Christ’s on the road to Emaus—from the true lie: “Revera unum tantum mendacii genus est, quod nocet proximo.”

That Luther himself quite realised the novelty of his teaching, comes out clearly enough in the fragmentary notes of a sermon preached on Jan. 5, 1528, i.e. on the eve of the feast of the Three Kings. The reporter’s notes are as usual partly in Latin partly in the vernacular.

Hence, as the concluding words show, Luther was of opinion that the “monks” went too far in insisting on the truth everywhere.

Elsewhere Luther is disposed to follow the teaching of his Nominalist masters and to see in certain apparent lies (e.g. in that told by Abraham about his “sister” Sara) the result of divine inspiration. (Cp. “Opp. lat. exeg.,” 3, p. 142 sq.) “Hoc ipsum consilium ex fide firmissima et ex Spiritu Sancto fuisse profectum iudicem.” Abraham was moved by the Holy Ghost to take steps to save his person and thus ensure the fulfilment of the Divine promises made to his posterity. “Quæ fiunt ad gloriam Dei et verbum eius ornandum et commendandum, hæc recte fiunt et merito laudantur.”

Gabriel Biel, a representative Nominalist, admits that a sort of inspiration may sometimes make lawful what God has forbidden: He says, e.g.:

Biel appeals to St. Augustine’s excuse of Jacob’s lie to his father Isaac, and then proceeds to justify it on Nominalist grounds; the “potentia Dei absoluta” can make lies lawful; by virtue of this “potentia” the Holy Ghost, in such inspired cases, can suspend for the while the prohibition. Biel himself had only the Old Testament instances in view, but the theory was a dangerous one.

13. Luther’s lack of the missionary spirit

Walter Köhler in his article “Reformation und Mission” (in the Swiss “Theologische Zeitschrift,” 1911, pp. 49-60) seeks to find the reason for the Reformers’ lack of interest in the Missions. (See above, vol. iii., p. 213 ff.) It cannot be simply because they were too busy with Rome, for this might indeed explain their not sending out missionaries but not the fact that even the thought of so doing never occurred to them. Yet a movement which professed to be Evangelical and to take as its standard the Apostolic Church should surely have concerned itself more about the heathen.

Against those who argue that the absence of missionary effort was due to Luther’s eschatological expectations and his belief in the nearness of the Last Day, Köhler points out that the teaching of history rather shows that such expectations, far from hindering, tend to promote missionary work. He alludes, for instance, to the rapid spread of Christianity at a time when the Second Coming was thought so near. He might also have referred to the case of St. Gregory the Great, who, though he believed the end of the world to be imminent, did not scruple to send his missionaries to England.

Others have said that the Reformers had no knowledge of the number of the heathen. But, as Köhler urges, though their knowledge was small compared with ours, yet they were not wholly ignorant of the state of things. They had at least heard of the discovery of America, as we see, for instance, from a sermon of Luther (Weim. ed., 10, 1, 1, p. 21), where he says: “Quite recently many islands and lands have been found, to which, so far, in fifteen hundred years, nothing of this grace (of the Gospel) has been proclaimed.”

The real reason is found by Köhler in the exegesis and theology of the Reformers: Luther, for instance, opined that the Apostles alone had been commanded to carry the Gospel throughout the world. He also followed the olden view that the Apostles had actually preached the Gospel to the very ends of the earth. Hence, since Apostolic times, no one is any longer under any obligation to preach Christ everywhere; we are now no longer apostles, but merely parish-priests.

His theology also comes into play in this. For God alone calls men to faith and salvation; He it is Who assembles His elect from among the heathen. But if it is God alone who arouses the faith in helpless man, then organised activity is useless. True to his principles the Reformer left the conversion of the heathen in the hands of God. To him an organised mission would have seemed to partake of the evil nature of work-service.

14. Notes

In vol. iv., p. 90 the author rather too hastily expresses wonder that Luther should have spoken of Pope Alexander VI as an “unbelieving Marane.” Luther, however, in so doing was merely re-echoing what had been said in Rome. Cp. Pastor, “History of the Popes” (Engl. Trans., vol. vi., p. 137): “When Julius II, who was an implacable enemy of the Borgia, occupied the Papal Chair, it became usual to speak of Alexander as a ‘Maraña.’” Cp. also, ib., p. 217 f. “His [Julius’s] dislike for this family was so strong that on the 26th of November, 1507, he announced that he would no longer inhabit the Appartamento Borgia, as he could not bear to be constantly reminded by the fresco portraits of Alexander of ‘those Marañas of cursed memory.’” (Note of the English Editor.)

In connection with the bishopric of Meissen (above, vol. v., p. 200 ff., etc.) we may quote a few words from the correspondence of its occupant. They will show how the Bishops, while taking no steps themselves, were vexed with the Pope and Kaiser for doing so little to obviate the danger to religion. Johann von Maltitz, Bishop of Meissen, wrote on Oct. 16, 1540, as follows to Johann Fabri, Bishop of Vienna (Cardauns, “Nuntiaturberichte,” 6, p. 233):

On Dec. 10, 1540, he wrote to the same correspondent: