Cochlæus pointed out, that it was not the Emperor but Luther, who had been a persecutor of the Gospel for more than twelve years. Should, however, the Emperor persecute the true Gospel of Christ, then the exhortation contained in Luther’s memorandum patiently to allow things to take their course and even to suffer martyrdom, would be altogether inadmissible, because there existed plenty means of obtaining redress; in such a case God was certainly more to be obeyed than the Emperor; any Prince who should assist the Emperor in such an event must be looked upon as a tyrant and ravening wolf; it was, on the contrary, the duty of the Princes to risk life and limb should the Gospel and true faith of their subjects be menaced; and in the same way the towns and all their burghers must offer resistance; this would be no revolt, seeing that the Imperial authority would be tyrannously destroying the historic ecclesiastical order as handed down, in fact, the Divine order. Luther’s desire, Cochlæus writes, that each one should answer for himself to the Emperor, was unreasonable and quite impossible for the unlearned. Finally, he warmly invites the doctors of the new faith to return to Mother Church.[164]
The author of the other reply to Luther’s secret memorandum dealt more severely with it. Abbot Bachmann declares, that it was not inspired by charity but by the cunning and malice of the old serpent. “As long as Luther had a free hand to carry on his heresies unopposed, he raged like a madman, called the Pope Antichrist, the Emperor a bogey, the Princes fools, tyrants and jackanapes, worse even than the Turks; but, now that he foresees opposition, the old serpent turns round and faces his tail, simulating a false humility, patience and reverence for the authorities, and says: ‘A Christian must be ready to endure violence from his rulers!’ Yet even this assertion is not true always and everywhere....” Should a ruler really persecute the Divine teaching, then it would be necessary to defend oneself against him. “I should have had to write quite a big book,” he concludes, “had I wished to reply one by one to all the sophistries which Luther accumulates in this his counsel.”[165]
The League of Schmalkalden was first drawn up and subscribed to by Johann, Elector of Saxony, and Ernest, Duke of Brunswick, on February 27, 1531. The other members affixed their signatures to the document at Schmalkalden on March 29. The League comprised, in addition to the Electorate of Saxony and the Duchy of Brunswick-Lüneburg, the Landgraviate of Hesse under Philip, the prime mover of the undertaking, and was also subscribed to by Prince Wolfgang of Anhalt, Counts Gebhard and Albert of Mansfeld, and the townships of Strasburg, Ulm, Constance, Reutlingen, Memmingen, Lindau, Biberach, Isny, Lübeck, Magdeburg and Bremen.
A wedge had been driven into the unity of Germany at the expense of her internal strength and external development. What had been initiated at Gotha in 1526 by the armed coalition between Landgrave Philip of Hesse and the Elector of Saxony, in the interests of the religious innovations, was now consummated.
The obligation to which the members of the League of Schmalkalden pledged themselves by oath was as follows: “That where one party is attacked or suffers violence for the Word of God or for causes arising from it, or on any other pretext, each one shall treat the matter in no other way than as though he himself were attacked, and shall therefore, without even waiting for the others, come to the assistance of the party suffering violence, and succour him to the utmost of his power.” The alliance, which was first concluded for six years, was repeatedly renewed later and strengthened by the accession of new members.
Luther, for his part, had now arrived at the goal whither his steps had been tending and towards which so many of the statements contained in his letters and writings had pointed, inspired as they were by a fiery prepossession in favour of his cause. It suited him admirably, that, when the iron which had so long been heating came upon the anvil, he should remain in the background, leaving to the lawyers the first place and the duty of tendering opinions. In his eyes, however, the future success of the League, in view of its then weakness, was still very doubtful. Should the Schmalkalden conference turn out to be the commencement of a period of misfortune for the innovations, still, thanks to the restraint which Luther had imposed on himself, in spite of his being the moving spirit and the religious link between the allies, his preaching of the Evangel would be less compromised. The miseries of the Peasant War, which had been laid to his account, the excesses of the Anabaptists against public order, the unpopularity which he had earned for himself everywhere on account of the revolts and disturbance of the peace, were all of a nature to make him more cautious. There are many things to show, that, instead of promoting the outbreak of hostilities in the days immediately subsequent to the Diet of Augsburg, he would very gladly have contented himself with the assurance, that, for the present, the Reichstagsabschied not being capable of execution, things might as well take their course. By this policy he would gain time; he was also anxious for the new faith quietly to win new ground, so as to demonstrate to the Emperor by positive proofs the futility of any proceedings against himself.
The wavering attitude of many of the Catholic Estates at Augsburg had inspired him with great hopes of securing new allies. It there became apparent that either much had been rotten for a long time past in that party of the Diet which hitherto had been faithful to the Pope, or that the example of the Protesters had proved infectious.
Wider prospects were also opening out for Lutheranism. In Würtemberg Catholicism was menaced by the machinations of the Landgrave of Hesse. There seemed a chance of the towns of Southern Germany being won back from Zwinglian influences and making common cause with Wittenberg. Henry the Eighth’s failure in his divorce proceedings also raised the hopes of the friends of the new worship that England, too, might be torn away from the Papal cause. At the conclusion of the Diet, Bugenhagen had been summoned by the magistrates of Lübeck in order to introduce the new Church system in that city.
In Bavaria there was danger lest the jealousy of the Dukes at the growth of the house of Habsburg, and their opposition to the expected election of Ferdinand as King, should help in the spread of schism.
It is noteworthy that Luther’s letter to Ludwig Senfl, the eminent and not unfriendly musician and composer, bandmaster to Duke William and a great favourite at the Court of Bavaria, should have been sent just at this time. To him Luther was high in his praise of the Court: Since the Dukes of Bavaria were so devoted to music, he must extol them, and give them the preference over all other Princes, for friends of music must necessarily possess a good seed of virtue in their soul. This connection with Senfl he continued in an indirect fashion.[166]
The best answer to the resolutions passed at Augsburg seemed to the first leader of the movement to lie in expansion, i.e. in great conquests, to be achieved in spite of all threats of violence.
Instead of having recourse to violence, the Empire, however, entered into those negotiations which were ultimately to lead, in 1532, to the so-called Religious Peace of Nuremberg. At about this time Luther sent a missive to his Elector in which his readiness for a religious war is perfectly plain.
The document, which was composed jointly with the other Wittenberg theologians, and for the Latinity of which Melanchthon may have been responsible, treats, it would appear, of certain Imperial demands for concessions made at the Court of the Elector on September 1, 1531, previous to the Schmalkalden conference. These demands manifest the utmost readiness on the part of the authorities of the Empire to make advances. Yet Luther in his reply refuses to acquiesce even in the proposal that people everywhere should be allowed to receive the Sacrament under one kind, according to the ritual hitherto in use. We are bound to declare openly and at all times, he says, that all those who refrain from receiving under both kinds are guilty of sin. He continues, referring to the other points under debate: It is true that we are told of the terrible consequences which must result should “war and rebellion break out, the collapse of all public order fall like a scourge upon Germany, and the Turks and other foreign powers subjugate the divided nation. To this our reply is: Sooner let the world perish than have peace at the expense of the Evangel. We know our teaching is certain; not a hair’s breadth may we yield for the sake of the public peace. We must commend ourselves to God, Who has hitherto protected His Church during the most terrible wars, and Who has helped us beyond all expectation.”[167]
This argument based on the Evangel cuts away the ground from under all Luther’s previous more moderate counsels.
The religious peace of Nuremberg was in the end more favourable to him than he could have anticipated. To his dudgeon, however, he had to remain idle while the guidance of the movement was assumed almost entirely by the League of Schmalkalden, the fact that the League was a military one supplying a pretext for dispossessing him more and more of its direction. Already, in 1530, he had been forced to look on while Philip made advances to the sectaries of Zürich and the other Zwinglian towns of Switzerland, and concluded a treaty with them on November 16 for mutual armed assistance in the event of an attack on account of the faith. “This will lead to a great war,” he wrote to the Elector, “and, as your Electoral Highness well knows, in such a war we shall be defending the error concerning the Sacrament, which will thus become our own; from this may Christ, my Lord, preserve your Electoral Highness.”[168]
His apprehensions, lest the good repute of his cause should be damaged by unjust bloodshed, grew, when, in 1534, the warlike Landgrave set out for Würtemberg.
It was a crying piece of injustice and violence when Philip of Hesse, after having allied himself with France, by means of a lucky campaign, robbed King Ferdinand of Würtemberg and established the new faith in that country by reinstating the Lutheran Duke Ulrich.[169]
Before the campaign Luther had declared that it was “contrary to the Gospel,” and would “bring a stain upon our teaching,” and that “it was wrong to disturb or violate the peace of the commonwealth.”[170] He hinted at the same time that he did not believe in a successful issue: “No wise man,” he said subsequently, “would have risked it.”[171]—Yet, when the whole country was in the hands of the conqueror, when a treaty of peace had been signed in which the articles on religion were purposely framed in obscure and ambiguous terms, while the prospects of the new faith, in view of Ulrich’s character, seemed excellent, Luther expressed his joy and congratulations to the Hessian Court through Justus Menius, a preacher of influence: “We rejoice that the Landgrave has returned happily after having secured peace. It is plain that this is God’s work; contrary to the general expectation He has set our fears to rest! He Who has begun the work will also bring it to a close. Amen.”[172]
Luther himself tells us later what foreign power it was that had rendered this civil war in the very heart of Germany possible. “Before he [the Landgrave] reinstated the Duke of Würtemberg he was in France with the King, who lent him 200,000 coronati to carry on the war.”[173]
The fear of an impending great war between the religious parties in Germany was gradually dispelled. The object of the members of the League of Schmalkalden in seeking assistance from France and England was to strengthen their position against a possible attack on the part of the Emperor; at the same time, by refusing to lend any assistance against the Turks, they rendered him powerless.
Luther now ventured to prophesy an era of peace. We shall have peace, he said, and there is no need to fear a war on account of religion. “But questions will arise concerning the bishoprics and the foundations,” as the Emperor is trying to get the rich bishoprics into his hands, and the other Princes likewise; “this will lead to quarrels and blows, for others also want their share.”[174] This confirms the observation made above: In place of a religious struggle the Princes preferred to wrangle over ecclesiastical property and rights, of which they were jealous. Thus Luther’s prediction concerning the character of the struggle in the years previous to the Schmalkalden and Thirty Years’ War was not so far wrong.
Luther was never afterwards to revert to his original disapproval of armed resistance to the Emperor.
In his private conversations we frequently find, on the contrary, frank admissions quite in agreement with the above remark on “war and rebellion” being justified by the Divine and indestructible Evangel. It is not only lawful, he says, but necessary to fight against the Emperor in the cause of the Evangel. “Should he begin a war against our religion, our worship and our Church, then he is a tyrant. Of this there is no question. Is it not lawful to fight in defence of piety? Even nature demands that we should take up arms in defence of our children and our families. Indeed, I shall, if possible, address a writing to the whole world exhorting all to the defence of their people.”[175]
Other similar statements are met with in his Table-Talk at a later date. “It is true a preacher ought not to fight in his own defence, for which reason I do not take a sword with me when I mount the pulpit, but only on journeys.”[176] “The lawyers,” he said, on February 7, 1538, “command us to resist the Emperor, simply desiring that a madman should be deprived of his sword.... The natural law requires that if one member injure another he be put under restraint, made a prisoner and kept in custody. But from the point of view of theology, there are doubts (Matt. v., 1 Peter ii.). I reply, however, that statecraft permits, nay commands, self-defence, so that whoever does not defend himself is regarded as his own murderer,” in spite of the fact, that, as a Christian and “believer in the Kingdom of Christ, he must suffer all things, and may not in this guise either eat or drink or beget children.” In many cases it is necessary to put away “the Christianum and bring to the fore the politicam personam,”[177] just as a man may slay incontinently the violator of his wife. “We are fighting, not against Saul, but against Absalom.” Besides, the Emperor might not draw the sword without the consent of the Seven Electors. “The sword belongs to us, and only at our request may he use it.”[178] “Without the seven he has no power; indeed, if even one is not for him, his power is nil and he is no longer monarch.... I do not deprive the Emperor of the sword, but the Pope, who has no business to lord it and act as a tyrant.”[179] “The Emperor will not commence a war on his own account but for the sake of the Pope, whose vassal he has become; he is only desirous of defending the abominations of the Pope, who hates the Gospel and thinks of nothing but his own godless power.”[180]
Luther, in his anger against the Papists and the priests, goes so far as to place them on a par with the Turks and to advise their being slaughtered;[181] this he did, for instance, in May, 1540. In 1539 he says: “Were I the Landgrave, I should set about it, and either perish or else slay them because they refuse peace in a good and just cause; but as a preacher it does not beseem me to counsel this, much less to do it myself.”[182] The Papal Legate, Paolo Vergerio, when with Luther in 1535, expressed to him his deep indignation at the deeds of King Henry VIII. of England, who had put to death Cardinal John Fisher and Sir Thomas More. Luther wrote to Melanchthon of Vergerio’s wrath and his threats against the King, but shared his feelings so little as actually to say: “Would that there were a few more such kings of England to put to death these cardinals, popes and legates, these traitors, thieves, robbers, nay, devils incarnate.” Such as they, he says, plunder and rob the churches and are worse than a hundred men of the stamp of Verres or a thousand of that of Dionysius. “How is it that Princes and lords, who are always complaining to us of the injury done to the churches, endure it?”[183]
Even in official memoranda Luther soon threw all discretion to the winds, and ventured to speak most strongly in favour of armed resistance.
Such was the memorandum, of January, 1539, addressed to the Elector Johann Frederick and signed at Weimar by Jonas, Bucer and Melanchthon, as well as Luther. The Elector had asked for it owing to the dangerous position of the League of Schmalkalden, now that peace had been concluded between the Emperor and Francis I. of France. He had also enquired how far the allies might take advantage of the war with the Turks; and whether they might make their assistance against the Turks contingent upon certain concessions being granted to the new worship. The second question will be dealt with later;[184] as to the first, whether resistance to the Emperor was allowed, the signatories replied affirmatively in words which go further than any previous admission.[185]
They had already, they say, “given their answer and opinion, and there was no doubt that this was the Divine truth which we are bound to confess even at the hour of death, viz. that not only is defence permitted, but a protest is verily, and indeed, incumbent on all.” Here it will be observed that Luther no longer says merely that the lawyers inferred this from the Imperial law, but that God, “to Whom we owe this duty,” commanded that “idolatry and forbidden worship” should not be tolerated. Numerous references to the “Word of God” regarding the authorities were adduced in support of this contention (Ps. lxxxii. 3; Exod. xx. 7; Ps. ii. 10, 11; 1 Tim. i. 9). It is pointed out how in the Sacred Books the “Kings of Juda are praised for exterminating idolatry.” “Every father is bound to protect his wife and child from murder, and there is no difference between a private murderer and the Emperor, should he attempt unjust violence outside his office.” The case is on all fours with one where the “overlord tries to impose on his subjects blasphemy and idolatry,” hence war must be waged, just as “Constantine fell upon Licinius, his ally and brother-in-law.” David, Ezechias and other holy kings likewise risked life and limb for the honour of God. “This is all to be understood as referring to defence.” But “where the ban has been proclaimed against one or more of the allies,” “discord has already broken out.” Those under the ban have lost “position and dignity,” and may commence the attack without further ado. Still, “it is not for us to assume that hostilities should be commenced at once”; this is the business of those actually concerned.
Such was the advice of Luther and those mentioned above to the Elector, when he was about to attend a meeting of the League of Schmalkalden at Frankfurt, where another attempt was to be made to prevent the outbreak of hostilities by negotiations with the Emperor’s ministers. Luther was apprehensive of war as likely to lead to endless misfortunes, yet his notion that “idolatry” must be rooted out would allow of no yielding on his part. “It is almost certain that this memorandum was made use of at the negotiations preliminary to the Frankfurt conference, seeing that the Elector in the final opinion he addressed to his councillors repeats it almost word for word.”[186] The memorandum was probably drawn up by Melanchthon.
At that very time Luther seems also to have received news from Brandenburg that Joachim II., the Elector, was about to Protestantise his lands. Such tidings would naturally make him all the more defiant.
Joachim, in spite of his sympathies for Lutheranism, had hitherto refrained from formally embracing it, not wishing to come into conflict with the Emperor. In 1539, however, he publicly apostatised, casting to the winds all his earlier promises. As Calvin wrote to Farel, in November, 1539, Joachim had informed the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, his chief tempter, that he had now made up his mind to “accept the Gospel and to exterminate Popery,”[187] and this he did with the best will, though he took no part in the Schmalkalden War against the Emperor. In his case politics and a disinclination to make war on the Emperor were the determining factors.
While Joachim was still quietly pursuing his subversive plans in the March of Brandenburg, the ever-recurring question was already being discussed anew amongst the Lutherans in that quarter, viz. whether Luther had not previously, and with greater justice, declared himself against resistance, and whether he was not therefore hostile to the spirit of the League of Schmalkalden.
A nobleman, Caspar von Kokeritz, probably one of Joachim’s advisers, requested Luther to furnish the Protestant preacher at Cottbus, Johann Ludicke, with a fresh opinion on the lawfulness of resistance. The request was justified by the difference between Luther’s earlier standpoint—which was well known at Cottbus—and that which he had more recently adopted. From the difficulty Luther sought to escape in a strongly worded letter to Ludicke, dated February 8, 1539, which is in several ways remarkable.[188]
In this letter the lawyers and the Princes again loom very large. They had most emphatically urged the employment of force, and “very strong reasons exist against my opposing this desire and plan of our party.” In his earlier memorandum[189] he had been thinking of the Emperor as Emperor, but now he had come to look on him as what he really was, viz. as a mere “hireling” of the Pope. The Pope is desirous of carrying out his “diabolical wickedness” with the help of the Emperor. “Hence, if it is lawful to fight against the Turks and to defend ourselves against them, how much more so against the Pope, who is worse?” Still, he was willing to stand by his earlier opinion, provided only that Pope, Cardinals and Emperor would admit that they were all of them the devil’s own servants; “then my advice will be the same as before, viz. that we yield to the heathen tyrants.” Other reasons too had led him, so he says, to discard his previous opinion, but he is loath to commit them to writing for fear lest something might reach the ears of “those abominable ministers of Satan.” Instead, he launches out into biblical proofs, urging that the “German Princes,” who together with the Emperor governed the realm, “communi consilio,” had more right to withstand the Emperor than the Jewish people when they withstood Saul, or those others who, in the Old Testament, resisted the authorities, and yet met with the Divine approval. The constitution of the Empire might not be altered by the Emperor, “who is not the monarch,” and “least of all in the devil’s cause. He may not be aware that it is this cause that he is furthering, but we know for certain that it is. Let what I have said be enough for you, and leave the rest to the teaching of the Spirit. Let your exhortation be to ‘render unto the Kaiser the things that are the Kaiser’s.’ Ceterum secretum meum mihi.”[190]
It is not difficult from the above to guess the “secret”: it was the impending apostasy of the Electorate of Brandenburg.
Luther had already several times come into contact with Joachim II. The Elector’s mother was friendly with him and came frequently to Wittenberg. Concerning her foes Luther once wrote to Jonas: “May the Lord Jesus give me insight and eloquence against the darts of Satan.”[191] In his letter of congratulation to the Elector on his apostasy he hints more plainly at the opponents to whom he had referred darkly in his letter to Ludicke: “I am less concerned about the subtlety of the serpents than about the growl of the lion, which perchance, coming from those in high places, may disquiet your Electoral Highness.”[192]
When the religious war of Schmalkalden at last broke out, the foes of Wittenberg recalled Luther’s biblical admonitions in 1530 against the use of arms in the cause of the Gospel, which Cochlæus had already collected and published. These they caused to be several times reprinted (1546), with the object of showing the injustice of the protesters’ attitude by the very words of the Reformer, who had died just before. The Wittenberg theologians replied (1547), but their answer only added to the tangle of the network of evasions. As a counter-blast they printed Luther’s later memoranda, or “Conclusions,” in favour of the use of force, adding prefaces by Melanchthon and Bugenhagen; where the prefaces come to deal with the awkward statement made by Luther in 1530, the writers have recourse to the device of questioning its authenticity; this Melanchthon does merely incidentally, Bugenhagen of set purpose.[193] According to Bugenhagen, who, as a matter of fact, had himself assisted in drawing up the statement, it deserved to be relegated to the domain of fiction; Luther’s enemies, he says, had fabricated the document in order to injure the Evangel. He even asserted that he could quote Luther’s own assurances in this matter; according to Caspar Cruciger, Luther had declared in his presence that the memorandum of 1530 had not “emanated” from him, though “carried the rounds by his enemies.” Bugenhagen was unable to understand, so he says, how his own name came to be there, and repeatedly he speaks of the document as the “alleged” letter. He also tells us that he had repudiated it as early as 1531, immediately after its publication by Cochlæus; if this be true, then it is difficult to explain away his denial as due to mere forgetfulness. His statements are altogether at variance with what we are told by the physician, Matth. Ratzeberger, Luther’s friend, who was always opposed to the war, and who, in his tract of 1552, “A Warning against Unrighteous Ways,” etc., blames Bugenhagen for his repudiation of Luther’s authority.[194] From the above it is evident that we have no right to praise Bugenhagen, as has been done in modern days, “for the fire with which he was wont to advocate the truth.” Regarding Melanchthon’s love of truth we shall have more to say later.
On looking back over the various statements made by Luther concerning armed resistance, we cannot fail to be struck by their diversity; the testimony they afford is the reverse of favourable to their author’s consistency and honesty.
By his very nature Luther felt himself drawn to proclaim the right of armed resistance in the cause of the Evangel. Of this feeling we have indications even at an early date in certain unguarded outbursts which were repeated at intervals in such a way as to leave no doubt as to his real views. Yet, until 1530, his official and public statements, particularly to the Princes, speak quite a different language. The divergence was there and it was impossible to get rid of it either by explanation or by denial. As soon as things seemed about to lead inevitably to war, Luther saw that the time had come to cast moderation to the winds. He was unwilling to sacrifice his whole life-work, and the protesting Estates had no intention of relinquishing their new rights and privileges. Formerly it had seemed advisable and serviceable to the spread of the Evangel to clothe it in the garb of submissiveness to the supreme authority of the Empire and of patient endurance for the sake of truth, but, after the Diet of Augsburg such considerations no longer held good. Overcoming whatever hesitation he still felt, Luther yielded to the urgings of the secular politicians.
From that time his memoranda assumed a different character. At the commencement of the change their wording betrays the difficulties with which Luther found himself faced when called upon to reconcile his later with his earlier views. It was, however, not long before his combative temper completely got the better of his scruples in Luther’s writings and letters.
Nothing is more unhistorical than to imagine that his guiding idea was “By the Word only,” in the sense of deprecating all recourse to earthly weapons and desiring that the Word should prevail simply by its own inherent strength. He had spoken out his real mind when he said, in 1522: “Every power must yield to the Evangel, whether willingly or unwillingly,” and again, in 1530, “Let things take their course ... even though it come to war or revolt.” Only on these lines can we explain his action. His firm conviction of his own Divine mission (below, xvi.) confirms this assumption.
The stupendous task of repelling the onslaught of the Turkish power, which had cost Western Christendom such great sacrifices in the past, was, at the commencement of the third decade of the sixteenth century, the most pressing one for both Hungary and the German Empire.
Sultan Suleiman the Second’s lust for conquest had, since 1520, become a subject of the gravest misgivings in the West. With the help of his countless warlike hordes he had, in 1521, taken Belgrad, the strong outpost of the Christian powers, and, after a terrible struggle, on December 25 of the following year, captured from the Knights of St. John the strategically so important island of Rhodes. There now seemed every likelihood of these victories being followed up. The Kingdom of Hungary, which so long and gloriously had stemmed the inroads of the infidel into Christendom, now felt itself unable to cope single-handed with the enemy and accordingly appealed to the Emperor for help.
At the Diet of Nuremberg, in 1524, the Imperial Abschied of April 18 held out a promise of assistance in the near future, and even instanced tentatively the means to be adopted by the Empire. In the meantime appeals were to be made to the other Christian powers for help, so that the final resolutions concerning the plan of defence might be discussed and settled at the Spires Convention on November 11 of the same year.
Luther thought it his duty to interfere in these preparations.
The Diet of Nuremberg had re-enacted the Edict of Worms against Luther. It had requested the Pope to summon a “free, general Council” in some suitable spot in Germany[195] “in order that good may not be overborne by evil, and that true believers and subjects of Christ may be brought to a firm belief in a common faith.” Incensed by the renewal of the Edict of Worms against his doctrine and person, Luther at once published an angry work, “Zwey keyserliche uneynige und wydderwertige Gepott” (1524),[196] in which he declared himself against the granting of any help whatever against the Turks.
He begins by saying of the authors of the new decree against Lutheranism, that surely even “pigs and donkeys could see how blindly and obstinately they were acting; it is abominable that the Emperor and the Princes should openly deal in lies.” After a lengthy discussion of the decree, he comes to the question of the help which was so urgently needed in order to repel the Turks; he says: “Finally I beg of you all, dear Christians, that you will join in praying to God for those miserable, blinded Princes, whom no doubt God Himself has placed over us as a curse, that we may not follow them against the Turks, or give money for this undertaking; for the Turks are ten times cleverer and more devout than are our Princes. How can such fools, who tempt and blaspheme God so greatly, expect to be successful against the Turks?”[197]
His chief reason for refusing help against the Turks was the blasphemy against God of which the Princes of the Empire, and the Emperor, had rendered themselves guilty by withstanding his Evangel.
He declares, “I would ten times rather be dead than listen to such blasphemy and insolence against the Divine Majesty.... God deliver us from them, and give us, in His mercy, other rulers. Amen.”—The Emperor himself he charges with presumption for daring—agreeably with age-long custom—to style himself the chief Protector of the Christian faith. “Shamelessly does the Emperor boast of this, he who is after all but a perishable bag of worms, and not sure of his life for one moment.” The Divine power of the faith has surely no need of a protector, he says; he scoffs at him and at the King of England, who styles himself Defender of the Faith; would that all pious Christians “would take pity upon such mad, foolish, senseless, raving, witless fools.”[198]
Even in the midst of the storm caused by his Indulgence Theses, Luther had already opposed the lending of any assistance against the Turks. A sermon preached in the winter of 1518, in which he took this line, was circulated[199] by his friends. When Spalatin enquired of him in the Elector’s name whether the Turkish War—for which Cardinal Cajetan was just then asking for help—could be justified by Holy Scripture, Luther replied, that the contrary could be proved from many passages; that the Bible was full of the unhappy results of wars undertaken in reliance on human means; that those wars alone were successful where heaven fought for the people; that now it was impossible to count upon victory in view of the corruption of Christendom and the tyranny and the hostility to Christ displayed by the Roman Church; on the contrary, God was fighting against them;[200] He must first be propitiated by tears, prayer, amendment of life and a pure faith. In the Resolutions on the Indulgence Theses we find the same antipathy to the war, again justified on similar mystical and polemical grounds.
His words in the Resolutions were even embodied by Rome in one of the propositions condemned on the proclamation of the ban: “To fight against the Turks is to withstand God, Who is using them for the punishment of our sins.”[201]
When, later, he came to approve of and advocate the war against the Turks, he declared, quite frankly: “I am open to confess that such an article was mine, and was advanced and defended by me in the past.”
He adds that he would be ready to defend it even now were things in the same state as then.—But where did he discern any difference? According to him, people then, before he had instructed them concerning its origin and office, had no idea of what secular authority really was. “Princes and lords who desired to be pious, looked upon their position and office as of no account, not as being the service of God, and became mere priests and monks.” But then he had written his “Von welltlicher Uberkeytt” (1523). Having reinstated the secular authority, so long “smothered and neglected,” he was loath to see it summoned against the Turks by the Pope. Besides, he is quite confident that the Pope had never been in earnest about the Turkish War; his real aim was to enrich his exchequer.[202]
Luther also explains that from the first he had been inclined to oppose the granting of any aid against the Turks on the theological ground embodied in his condemned proposition, viz. that God visits our sins upon us by means of the Turks. Here again he will not admit himself to have been in the wrong, for Christians must “endure wrong, violence or injustice ... not resist evil, but allow and suffer all things” as the Gospel teaches. Characteristically enough, he appeals to that “piece of Christian doctrine” according to which the Christian is to offer his left cheek to him who smites him on the right, and leave his cloak to the man who takes away his coat. Now, what our Lord taught in His Sermon on the Mount (Matt. v. 39 f.), was not, as he had already pointed out, a mere counsel of perfection, but a real command; but the “Pope with his schools and convents had made of this a counsel which it was permissible not to keep, and which a Christian might neglect, and had thus distorted the words of Christ, taught the whole world a falsehood, and cheated Christians.”[203] A way out of the fatal consequences which must ensue, Luther fancies he is able to find in the distinction between the true Christian and mere worldly citizen; it was not incumbent on the latter to perform everything that was binding on the former.
Previous to writing his “Von welltlicher Uberkeytt,” referred to above, he had again publicly expressed himself as opposed to the efforts of the Empire on behalf of the Turkish War; though no longer because the authorities lacked a right sense of their office, or because Christ’s counsel made submission a duty, but for quite another reason: Before taking any steps against the Turks it was necessary to resist the impious dominion of the Pope, compared with which the danger from the Turks paled into insignificance. “To what purpose is it,” he wrote in 1522, “to oppose the Turk? What harm does the Turk do? He invades a country and becomes its secular ruler.... The Turk also leaves each one free to believe as he pleases.” In both respects the Pope is worse; his invasions are more extensive, and, at the same time, he slays the souls, so that “as regards both body and soul the government of the Pope is ten times worse than that of the Turk.... If ever the Turks were to be exterminated it would be necessary first to begin with the Pope.” The Christian method of withstanding the Turks would be to “preach the Gospel to them.”[204] This paved the way for his warning, in 1524, against complying with the Emperor’s call for assistance in fighting the Turks (above, p. 77).
Such exhortations not to wage war against the Turks naturally tended to confuse the multitude to the last degree.
Incautious Lutheran preachers also did their share in stirring up high and low against the burden of taxes imposed by the wars. Hence it was quite commonly alleged against the instigator of the religious innovations that, mainly owing to his action after the Diet of Spires, there was a general reluctance to grant the necessary supplies, though the clouds on the eastern horizon of the Empire were growing ever blacker. After the horrible disaster at Mohacz, in 1526, Luther therefore found it necessary to exculpate himself before the public.
Luther gradually arrived at the decision that it was his duty to put his pen at the service of the war against the Turks.
A change took place in his attitude similar to that which had occurred in 1525 at the time of the Peasant Rising, which his words, and those of the Reformed preachers, had done not a little to further.
His friends, he says in 1529, “because the Turk was now so near,” had insisted on his finishing a writing against them which had already been commenced; “more particularly because of some unskilful preachers among us Germans, who, I regret to learn, are teaching the people that they must not fight against the Turks.” Some, he writes, also taught, that “it was not becoming for any Christian to wield the sword”; others went so far as to look forward to the coming of the Turks and their rule. “And such error and malice amongst the people is all placed at Luther’s door, as the fruit of my Evangel; in the same way that I had to bear the blame of the revolt [of the peasants].... Hence I am under the necessity of writing on the matter and of exculpating us, both for my own sake and for that of the Evangel ... in order that innocent consciences may not continue to be deceived by such calumnies, and be rendered suspicious of me and my teaching, or be wrongly led to believe that they must not fight against the Turks.”[205]
In February, 1528, Suleiman II. was in a position to demand that King Ferdinand should evacuate Buda-Pesth, the capital; it was already feared that his threat of visiting Ferdinand in Austria might be all too speedily fulfilled. The Sultan actually commenced, in the spring of 1529, his great campaign, which brought him to the very walls of Vienna. The city, however, defended itself with such heroism that the enemy was at last compelled to withdraw.
In April, 1529, when the reports of the danger which menaced Austria had penetrated throughout the length and breadth of Germany, Luther at last published the writing above referred to, viz. “On the Turkish War.”