CHAPTER I

Cortége—Tezel—Tezel’s Discourse—Confession—Four Graces—Sale—Public Penance—A Letter of Indulgences—Exceptions—Feasting and Debauchery. At this period the people of Germany were all in motion. The Church had opened a vast market on the earth. From the crowd of customers, and the noise and pleasantry of the sellers, one would have thought it a fair, only a fair held by monks. The merchandise which they were showing off, and selling a bargain, was, as they said, the salvation of souls. The merchants travelled the country in a fine carriage, accompanied by three mounted attendants, journeying in grand style, and living at great expence. One would have said it was some high Mightiness with his suite and officers, and not a vulgar dealer or mendicant monk. When the cortêge approached a town, a messenger was despatched to the magistrate to say, “The grace of God and of St. Peter is at your gates.” Immediately the whole place was in motion. Clergy, priests, nuns, the council, schoolmasters and their scholars, the incorporations with their colours, men and women, old and young, went out to meet the merchant with lighted tapers in their hand, amid the sound of music and the ringing of bells, “insomuch,” says a historian, “that God himself could not have been received with greater honour.” After the formalities were over the whole body proceeded to the church. The Bull of Grace by the pontiff was carried in front, on a velvet cushion or cloth of gold. Next came the chief of the indulgence merchants, carrying a large wooden cross, painted red. The whole procession moved forward, amid hymns, prayers, and the smoke of incense. The merchant monk and his attendants were received at the church by the pealing organ and thrilling music. The cross was placed in front of the altar, and over it the pope’s arms were suspended. All the time it remained there the clergy of the place, the penitentiaries and sub-commissaries, came each day after vespers or before the salute, to do obeisance to it with white wands in their hands. This grand affair produced a lively sensation in the quiet cities of Germany. At these sales one personage in particular drew the attention of the spectators. It was he who carried the great red cross, and played the principal character. He was clothed in the dress of a Dominican, and had an arrogant air. His voice was Stentorian, and though in his sixty-third year, he seemed still in full vigour. This man, the son of one Diez, a jeweller of Leipsic, was called John Diezel, or Tezel. He had studied in his native town, became bachelor in 1487, and two years after entered the Dominican order. Numerous honours had accumulated on his head. Bachelor in theology, prior of the dominicans, apostolic commissary, inquisitor, hæreticæ pravitatis inquisitor, he had discharged the office of commissary of indulgences, without intermission, from 1502. The skill which he had acquired as subaltern soon raised him to the office of commissary-in-chief. He had eighty florins a month, and all his expences paid, together with a carriage and three horses; but his perquisites (it is easy to comprehend what they were) far exceeded his salary. In 1507 at Freiberg he gained two thousand florins in two days. If he discharged the functions, he had also the manners of a quack. Convicted of adultery and shameful misconduct at Inspruck, his vices had almost cost him his life. The Emperor Maximilian had ordered him to be put into a sack and thrown into the river; but the Elector Frederick happening to arrive, obtained his pardon. The lesson which he thus received had not given him more modesty; for he had two of his children along with him.

Miltitz, the pope’s legate, mentions the fact in one of his letters. It would have been difficult to find in all the cloisters of Germany a man better fitted for the traffic with which he was entrusted. To the theology of a monk, to the zeal and temper of an inquisitor, he united the greatest effrontery; but the thing which, above all, made the task easy to him, was his skill in inventing extraordinary stories to captivate the minds of the people. To him all means were good that filled his coffers. Raising his voice, and giving free vent to his vulgar eloquence, he offered his indulgences to every comer, and knew better than any dealer at a fair how to set off his merchandise.

After the cross was erected, and the arms of the pope suspended over it, Tezel mounted the pulpit, and with a tone of assurance began to extol the value of the indulgences in presence of the crowd who had been attracted to the church by the ceremony. The people listened and stared on hearing the wondrous virtues of which he told them. A Jesuit historian, speaking of the Dominicans with whom Tezel was associated, says, “Some of these preachers failed not, as usual, to outrage the subject which they treated, and so to exaggerate the value of the indulgences as to make people suppose they were certain of their own salvation, and of the deliverance of souls from purgatory as soon as the money was paid.” If such were the scholars, we may judge what the master was. Let us listen to one of his harangues after setting up the cross.

“Indulgences are the most precious and most sublime gift of God.

“This cross (pointing to the red cross) has the very same efficacy as the actual cross of Jesus Christ.

“Come, and I will give you letters under seal, by which even the sins which you may have a desire to commit in future will all be forgiven.

“I would not exchange my privileges for that of St. Peter in heaven; for I have saved more souls by my indulgences than the apostle by his sermons.

“There is no sin too great for an indulgence to remit; and even should any one (the thing, no doubt, is impossible) have done violence to the Holy Virgin Mary, mother of God, let him pay, let him only pay well, and it will be forgiven him.

“Think, then, that for each mortal sin you must, after confession and contrition, do penance for seven years, either in this life or in purgatory. Now, how many mortal sins are committed in one day, in one week? How many in a month, a year, a whole life? Ah! these sins are almost innumerable, and innumerable sufferings must be endured for them in purgatory. And now, by means of these letters of indulgence, you can at once, for life, in all cases except four, which are reserved to the Apostolic See, and afterwards at the hour of death, obtain a full remission of all your pains and all your sins.”

Tezel even made financial calculations on the subject.

“Do you not know,” said he, “that when a man proposes to go to Rome, or to any other country where travellers are exposed to danger, he sends his money to the bank, and for every five hundred florins that he means to have, gives five, or six at most, in order that, by means of letters from the bank, he may receive the money safely at Rome or elsewhere … And, you, for the fourth of a florin, will not receive these letters of indulgence, by means of which you might introduce into the land of paradise, not worthless money, but a divine and immortal soul, without exposing it to the smallest risk.”

Tezel next passed to another subject.

“But more than this,” said he; “indulgences not only save the living: they also save the dead.

“For this repentance is not even necessary.

“Priest! noble! merchant! wife! young girls! young men! hear your departed parents and your other friends, crying to you from the bottom of the abyss, ‘We are enduring horrible torments! A little alms would deliver us; you can give it, and yet will not!’ ”

These words, uttered by the formidable voice of the charlatan monk, made his hearers shudder.

“At the very instant,” continued Tezel, “when the piece of money chinks on the bottom of the strong box, the soul comes out of purgatory, and, set free, flies upward into heaven.”

“O imbecile and brutish people, who perceive not the grace which is so richly offered to you!… Now heaven is everywhere open!… Do you refuse at this hour to enter? When, then, will you enter? Now you can ransom so many souls! Hard-hearted and thoughtless man, with twelve pence you can deliver your father out of purgatory, and you are ungrateful enough not to save him! I will be justified on the day of judgment, but you, you will be punished so much the more severely, for having neglected so great salvation. I declare to you, that though you had only a single coat, you would be bound to take it off and sell it, in order to obtain this grace.… The Lord our God is no longer God. He has committed all power to the pope.”

Then, trying to avail himself of other weapons still, he added, “Know you why our most holy Lord is distributing so great a grace? His object is to raise up the ruined church of St. Peter and St. Paul, so that it may not have its equal in the universe. That church contains the bodies of the holy apostles Peter and Paul, and of a multitude of martyrs. Owing to the actual state of the building, these holy bodies are now, alas! beaten, flooded, soiled, dishonoured, and reduced to rottenness, by the rain and the hail.… Ah! are these sacred ashes to remain longer in mud and disgrace?” This picture failed not to make an impression on many who felt a burning desire to go to the help of poor Leo X, who had not wherewith to shelter the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul from the rain.

Then the orator opened on the arguers and traitors who opposed his work. “I declare them excommunicated,” exclaimed he.

Afterwards addressing docile souls, and making a profane use of Scripture, “Happy are the eyes which see what you see; for I tell you, that many prophets and many kings have desired to see the things which you see, and have not seen them; and to hear the things which you hear, and have not heard them.” And at last, showing the strong box in which the money was received, he usually concluded his pathetic discourse with this triple appeal to the people, “Bring! bring! bring!” “These words,” says Luther, “he uttered with such horrible bellowing, that one might have thought it was a mad bull making a rush at people, and striking them with his horns.” When his discourse was ended, he came down from the pulpit, ran towards the chest, and in presence of the people chucked a piece of money into it, taking care to make it give a very loud tinkle.

³ Such were the discourses which astonished Germany, heard in the days when God was preparing Luther. At the termination of the discourse, the indulgence was understood “to have established its throne in the place in due form.” Confessionals were set up adorned with the pope’s arms. The sub-commissaries, and the confessors whom they selected, were considered to represent the apostolical penitentiaries of Rome at the jubilee, and on each of these confessionals were posted, in large characters, their names, surnames, and designations.

Then a crowd pressed forward to the confessor, each coming with a piece of money in his hand. Men, women, and children, the poor, even those who lived on alms, all found means of procuring money. The penitentiaries, after having anew explained the greatness of the indulgence to each individual, asked, “How much money can you afford to part with, in order to obtain so complete a forgiveness?” “This question,” says the Instruction of the Archbishop of Mentz to the commissaries; “this question ought to be put at this moment, that the penitents may thereby be the better disposed to contribute.”

Four valuable graces were promised to those who aided in building the basilisk of St. Peter. “The first grace which we announce to you,” said the commissaries, according to their Letter of Instruction, “is the complete pardon of all sins.” After this came three other graces,—first, the right of choosing a confessor, who, whenever the hour of death should seem to be at hand, would give absolution from all sins, and even from the greatest crimes reserved for the Apostolic See; second, a participation in all the blessings, works, and merits of the Catholic Church, in prayers, fastings, alms, and pilgrimages; and, third, the redemption of the souls which are in purgatory. To obtain the first of these graces, it was necessary to have contrition of heart and confession of the lips, or, at least, the intention of confessing. But for the three others, they could be obtained without contrition or confession, merely by paying. Previous to this, Christopher Columbus, extolling the value of gold, had said quite gravely, “He who possesses it may introduce souls into paradise.” Such was the doctrine taught by the Archbishop-Cardinal of Mentz, and the commissaries of the pope. “As to those,” said they, “who would deliver souls from purgatory, and procure for them pardon of all their offences, let them throw money into the chest. It is not necessary for them to have contrition of the heart or confession of the lips. Let them only hasten with their money; for they will thus do a work most useful to the souls of the departed, and to the erection of the Church of St. Peter.” Greater blessings could not be offered at a cheaper rate. When the confession was over, and it did not take long, the faithful hastened towards the seller. One only had charge of the sale, and kept his counter near the cross. He carefully eyed those who approached him, examining their air, bearing, and dress, and asked a sum proportioned to the appearance which each presented. Kings, queens, princes, archbishops, bishops, were, according to the regulation, to pay twenty-five ducats for an ordinary indulgence. Abbots, counts, and barons, paid ten. Others of the nobility, rectors, and all who had an income of five hundred florins, paid six. Those who had two hundred florins a-year paid one; others, only a half. Moreover, when the tax could not be followed to the letter, full powers were given to the commissary-apostolic, who was to arrange everything in accordance with the dictates of “sound reason,” and the generosity of the donor. For particular sins, Tezel had a particular tax. Polygamy paid six ducats; theft in a church, and perjury, nine ducats; murder, eight ducats; magic, two ducats. Samson, who carried on the same traffic in Switzerland as Tezel in Germany, had a somewhat different tax. For infanticide he charged four livres tournois; for parricide or fratricide, a ducat. The apostolic commissaries sometimes encountered difficulties in carrying on their trade. It often happened, both in towns and villages, that husbands were opposed to the whole concern, and prohibited their wives from giving any thing to these merchants. What, then, were devout spouses to do? “Have you not your dowry, or some other property, at your own disposal?” asked the dealers. “In that case we may dispose of part for so sacred a purpose, even against the will of your husbands. The hand which had given the indulgence could not receive the money. This was prohibited under the severest penalties; for there might be good reason to suspect that that hand would not have been faithful. The penitent himself behoved to deposit the price of his pardon in the chest. Angry looks were given to those who were audacious enough not to open their purses.⁵

If among those who pressed forward to the confessionals, there happened to be any one whose crime was publicly known, though of a kind which the civil law could not reach, he behoved, first of all, to do public penance. For this purpose they first led him to a chapel or sacristy, where they stripped him of his clothes, and took off his shoes, leaving him nothing but his shirt. His arms were crossed upon his breast, a light placed in one hand, and a rod in the other. Then the penitent walked at the head of the procession which proceeded to the red cross. He remained on his knees till the chant and the collect was finished. Then the commissary gave out the Psalm, Miserere mei. The confessors immediately approached the penitent, and led him across the church towards the commissary, who, taking the rod from his hand, and gently striking him thrice on the back with it, said to him, “The Lord have pity on thee, and forgive thy sin.” He then gave out the Kyrie Eleison. The penitent was led back to the front of the cross, and the confessor gave him the apostolic absolution, and declared him restored to the company of the faithful. Sad mummery, concluded with a holy expression, which, at such a moment, was mere profanation!

It is worth while to know the contents of one of those diplomas of absolution which led to the Reformation of the Church. The following is a specimen:—“May our Lord Jesus Christ have pity on thee, N. N., and absolve thee by the merit of his most holy passion. And I, in virtue of the apostolic power entrusted to me, absolve thee from all ecclesiastical censures, judgments, and penalties, which thou mayest have deserved; moreover, from all the excesses, sins, and crimes, which thou mayest have committed, how great and enormous soever they may have been, and for whatever cause, even should they have been reserved to our most holy Father the pope, and to the apostolic see. I efface all the marks of disability, and all the notes of infamy which thou mayest have incurred on this occasion. I remit the pains which thou shouldest have to endure in purgatory. I render thee anew a partaker in the sacraments of the church. I again incorporate thee into the communion of saints, and re-establish thee in the innocence and purity in which thou wert at the hour of thy baptism; so that, at the moment of thy death, the gate of entrance to the place of pains and torments will be shut to thee, and, on the contrary, the gate which leads to the heavenly paradise, will be opened to thee. If thou art not to die soon, this grace will remain unimpaired till thy last hour arrive. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Friar John Tezel, commissary, has signed it with his own hand.”

How dexterously presumptuous and lying words are here intermingled with holy Christian expressions!

All the faithful required to come and confess at the place where the red cross was erected. The only exceptions were the sick, the aged, and pregnant women. If, however, there happened to be in the neighbourhood some noble in his castle, or some great personage in his palace, there was an exemption for him; for he might not care to mingle with the crowd, and his money was worth the going for.

If there happened to be a convent whose heads were opposed to the traffic of Tezel, and prohibited their monks from visiting the places where the indulgence had erected its throne, means were still found to remedy the evil by sending them confessors, who were commissioned to absolve them against the will of their order and the will of their heads. There was not a vein in the mine, however small, which they did not find means of working. At length they arrived at the object and end of the whole affair, the summing up of the cash. For greater security, the strong box had three keys—one in the hands of Tezel, the second in those of the treasurer, appointed by the firm of Fugger of Augsburg, who had been appointed agents in this vast enterprise, while the third was entrusted to the civil authority. When the moment arrived, the counters were opened in the presence of a notary-public, and the whole was duly counted and recorded. Must not Christ arise and drive these profane sellers from the temple? The mission being closed, the dealers relaxed from their labours. It is true the instructions of the commissary-general forbade them to frequent taverns and suspicious places; but they cared little for this prohibition. Sin must have appeared a very trivial matter to people who had such an easy trade in it. “The mendicants,” says a Roman Catholic historian, “led a bad life, expending in taverns, gaming-houses, and places of infamy, what the people retrenched from their necessities.”⁴ It is even averred, that in taverns they sometimes played at dice for the salvation of souls.