CHAPTER I
Conquests by the Word of God—The Diet of Worms—Difficulties—Charles demands Luther—The Elector to Charles—State of Men’s minds—Aleander’s Alarm—The Elector sets out without Luther—Aleander awakens Rome—Excommunication of the Pope, and Communion with Christ—Fulmination of the Bull—Luther’s motives in the Reformation. The Reformation, which commenced with the struggles of an humble soul in the cell of a convent at Erfurt, had never ceased to advance. An obscure individual, with the Word of life in his hand, had stood erect in presence of worldly grandeur, and made it tremble. This Word he had opposed, first, to Tezel and his numerous host, and these avaricious merchants, after a momentary resistance, had taken flight. Next, he had opposed it to the legate of Rome at Augsburg, and the legate, paralysed, had allowed his prey to escape. At a later period he had opposed it to the champions of learning in the halls of Leipsic, and the astonished theologians had seen their syllogistic weapons broken to pieces in their hands. At last he had opposed it to the pope, who, disturbed in his sleep, had risen up upon his throne, and thundered at the troublesome monk; but the whole power of the head of Christendom this Word had paralysed. The Word had still a last struggle to maintain. It behoved to triumph over the emperor of the West, over the kings and princes of the earth, and then, victorious over all the powers of the world, take its place in the Church to reign in it as the pure Word of God. The whole kingdom was agitated. Princes and nobles, knights and citizens, clergy and laity, town and country, all were engrossed. A mighty religious revolution, of which God himself was the prime mover, but which was also deeply rooted in the minds of the people, was threatening to overthrow the long venerated head of the Roman hierarchy. A new generation, of a grave, profound, active, and energetic spirit, filled the universities, towns, courts, and castles, the rural districts, and not unfrequently cloisters also. The feeling that a great social transformation was at hand animated all minds with holy enthusiasm. In what relation will the new emperor stand to this movement of the age, and what will be the issue of the mighty impulse, by which all feel that they are borne along? A solemn Diet was about to be opened. It was the first imperial assembly over which the youthful Charles was to preside. Nuremberg, where, in virtue of the Golden Bull, it ought to have been held, being desolated by the plague, it had been summoned to meet at Worms, on the 6th of January, 1521. Never had a Diet been attended by so many princes. All desired to be present at this first act of the government of the young emperor, and to make a display of their power. Among others, the young Landgrave, Philip of Hesse, who was afterwards to play so important a part in the Reformation, arrived at Worms in the middle of January, with six hundred cavaliers, among them men of renowned valour. But there was a still more powerful motive which induced the electors, dukes, archbishops, landgraves, margraves, bishops, barons, and lords of the empire, as well as the deputies of towns, and the ambassadors of the kings of Christendom, at this moment, to throng the roads leading to Worms with their brilliant equipages. It had been announced that the Diet would be occupied with the nomination of a council of regency to govern the empire during the absence of Charles, with the jurisdiction of the imperial chamber, and other important questions. But the public attention was particularly directed to another matter, which the emperor had also mentioned in his letter convening the Diet, viz., the Reformation. The great interests of politics trembled before the cause of the Monk of Wittemberg. This cause was the principal subject of conversation among all personages who arrived at Worms.
Every thing announced that the Diet would be difficult and stormy. Charles, scarcely twenty years of age, pale and sickly, yet as skilful as any one in the graceful management of his horse and in breaking a lance, of a character imperfectly developed, and with a grave and melancholy but still benevolent expression of countenance, gave no proof as yet of distinguished talent, and seemed not to have adopted a decided course. The able and active William of Croi, Lord of Chievres, who was his grand chamberlain, his governor, and prime minister, and possessed absolute authority at the court, died at Worms. Numerous ambitious projects were competing with each other. Many passions were in collision. The Spaniards and Belgians were eager to insinuate themselves into the counsels of the young prince. The nuncios multiplied their intrigues, while the princes of Germany spoke out boldly. A struggle might have been foreseen, yet a struggle in which the principal part would be performed by the secret movements of factions.
Charles opened the Diet on the 28th of January, 1521, being the festival of Charlemagne. He had a high idea of the importance of the imperial dignity. In his opening address he said, that no monarchy could be compared to the Roman empire, to which of old almost the whole world had been subject; that, unhappily, the empire was now only the shadow of what it had been; but that he hoped, by means of his kingdoms and powerful alliances, to re-establish it in its ancient glory. But numerous difficulties immediately presented themslves to the young emperor. How will he act, placed, as he is, between the papal nuncio and the Elector to whom he owes his crown? How can he avoid dissatisfying Aleander or Frederick? The former urged the emperor to execute the papal bull, and the latter begged him to undertake nothing against the monk without giving him a hearing. Wishing to please these two opposite parties, the young prince, during a sojourn at Oppenherm, had written to the Elector to bring Luther to the Diet, assuring him that no injustice would be done him, that he would meet with no violence, and that learned men would confer with him. This letter of Charles, accompanied by letters from Chievres and the Count of Nassau, threw the Elector into great perplexity An alliance with the pope might at any instant become necessary to the young and ambitious emperor, and in that case it was all over with Luther Frederick, by taking the Reformer to Worms, was perhaps taking him to the scaffold; and yet the orders of Charles were express. The Elector ordered Spalatin to acquaint Luther with the letters which he had received. “The enemy,” said the chaplain to him, “is putting every thing in operation to hasten on the affair.”
Luther’s friends trembled, but he trembled not. He was then in very feeble health; no matter. “If I cannot go to Worms in health,” replied he to the Elector, “I will make myself be carried; since the emperor calls me, I cannot doubt but it is a call from God himself. If they mean to employ violence against me, as is probable, (for assuredly it is not with a view to their own instruction that they make me appear,) I leave the matter in the hands of the Lord. He who preserved the three young men in the furnace, still lives and reigns. If He is not pleased to save me, my life is but a small matter; only let us not allow the gospel to be exposed to the derision of the wicked, and let us shed our blood for it sooner than permit them to triumph. Whether would my life or my death contribute most to the general safety? It is not for us to decide. Let us only pray to God that our young emperor may not commence his reign with dipping his hands in my blood; I would far rather perish by the sword of the Romans. You know what judgments befel the emperor Sigismund after the murder of John Huss. Expect every thing of me—save flight and recantation; I cannot fly, still less can I recant.”
Before receiving this letter from Luther, the Elector had taken his resolution. As he was advancing in the knowledge of the gospel, he began to be more decided in his measures. Seeing that the conference of Worms could not have a happy result, he wrote to the emperor. “It seems to me difficult to bring Luther with me to Worms; relieve me from the task. Besides, I have never wished to take his doctrine under my protection, but only to prevent him from being condemned without a hearing. The Legates without waiting for your orders, have proceeded to take a step insulting both to Luther and to me, and I much fear, that in this way they have hurried him on to an imprudent act which might expose him to great danger were he to appear at the Diet.” The Elector alluded to the pile which had consumed the Papal bull. But the rumour of Luther’s journey to Worms had already spread. Men eager for novelty rejoiced at it. The emperor’s courtiers were alarmed, but no one felt so indignant as the papal legate. Aleander on his journey had seen how deep an impression the gospel which Luther preached had made on all classes of society. Literary men, lawyers, nobles, the lower clergy, the regular orders, and the people, were gained to the Reformation. These friends of the new doctrine carried their heads erect, and were bold in their language, while fear and terror froze the partizans of Rome. The papacy still stood, but its props were shaking. A noise of devastation was already heard, somewhat resembling the creaking which takes place at the time when a mountain begins to slip.3
Aleander, during his journey to Worms, was sadly annoyed. When he had to dine or sleep, neither literary men nor nobles nor priests, even among the supposed friends of the pope, durst receive him, and the proud nuncio was obliged to seek an asylum in taverns of the lowest class. He was thus in terror, and had no doubt that his life was in great danger. In this way he arrived at Worms; and, thenceforth, to his Roman fanaticism was added resentment for the personal injuries which he had received. He immediately put every means in operation to prevent the audacious compearance of the redoubtable Luther. “Would it not be scandalous,” said he, “to see laics re-investigating a cause which the pope had already condemned?” Nothing alarms a Roman courtier so much as an investigation; and, moreover, an investigation to take place in Germany, and not at Rome. How humiliating even should Luther’s condemnation be unanimously decided! And it was not even certain that such would be the result. Will not the powerful word of Luther, which has already done such havoc, involve many princes and nobles in inevitable ruin? Aleander, when before Charles, insisted, implored, threatened, and spoke out as nuncio of the head of the Church.
2 Charles yielded; and wrote to the Elector that the time granted to Luther having already elapsed, the monk was under papal excommunication; and that therefore unless he were willing to retract his writings, Frederick must leave him at Wittemberg. Frederick had already quitted Saxony without Luther. “I pray the Lord to be favourable to our Elector,” were the words of Melancthon on seeing him depart; “on him our hopes of the restoration of Christendom repose. His enemies dare every thing,
Aleander did not consider it enough that Luther should not come to Worms—he wished him to be condemned. Returning incessantly to the charge before the princes, prelates, and different members of the Diet, he accused the Augustin monk not only of disobedience and heresy, but also of sedition, rebellion, impiety, and blasphemy. The very accent in which he spoke betrayed the passions by which he was actuated; so that men exclaimed, it is hatred and love of vengeance, rather than zeal and piety, that excite him. However frequent, however vehement his discourses were, he made no converts.6
Some pointed out to him that the papal bull had condemned Luther only conditionally; others did not altogether conceal the joy which they felt at seeing Roman pride humbled. The ministers of the emperor, on the one hand, and the ecclesiastical electors, on the other, affected great coldness—the former to make the pope more sensible how necessary it was for him to league with their master, the latter in order to induce him to pay better for their favour. A conviction of Luther’s innocence prevailed in the assembly, and Aleander could not restrain his indignation. But the coldness of the Diet did not try the patience of the legate so much as the coldness of Rome. Rome, which had so long refused to take a serious view of the quarrel of the drunk German, had no idea that a bull of the sovereign pontiff could prove insufficient to make him humble and submissive. She had accordingly resumed her wonted security, no longer sending either bull or purses of money. But how was it possible without money to succeed in such a business?2 Rome must be awakened, and Aleander gives the alarm. Writing to the Cardinal de Medicis, he says, “Germany is detaching herself from Rome, and the princes are detaching themselves from the pope. A few delays more—a few more attempts at compromise and the matter is past hope. Money! money! or Germany is lost.” At this cry Rome awakes: the servants of the papacy, laying aside their torpor, hastily forge their dreaded thunder at the Vatican. The pope issues a new bull; and the excommunication with which till then the heretical doctor had been merely threatened, is in distinct terms pronounced against him and all his adherents. Rome herself, breaking the last thread which still attached him to her church, gave Luther greater freedom, and thereby greater power. Thundered at by the pope, he, with new affection, took refuge in Christ. Driven from the external temple, he felt more strongly that he was himself a temple inhabited by God.
“It is a glorious thing,” said he, “that we sinners, in believing on Jesus Christ, and eating his flesh, have him within us with all his strength, power, wisdom and justice, according as it is written, ‘He who believeth in me, dwelleth in me and I in him.’ Admirable dwelling! marvellous tabernacle! far superior to that of Moses, and all magnificently adorned within with superb tapestry, veils of purple, and furniture of gold, while without, as on the tabernacle which God ordered to be constructed in the wilderness of Sinai, is seen only a rough covering of beavers’ skins or goats’ hair. Christians often stumble, and in external appearance are all feebleness and disgrace. But no matter: within this infirmity and folly dwells secretly a power which the world cannot know, but which overcomes the world; for Christ remaineth in them. I have sometimes seen Christians walking with a halt, and in great weakness; but when the hour of combat or appearance at the world’s bar arrived, Christ of a sudden acted within them, and they became so strong and resolute that the devil in dismay fled before them.”2 In regard to Luther, such an hour was about to peal, and Christ, in whose communion he dwelt, was not to forsake him. Meanwhile Rome naturally rejected him. The Reformer, and all his partisans, whatever their rank and power, were anathematised, and deprived personally, as well as in their descendants, of all their dignities and effects. Every faithful Christian as he loved his soul’s salvation was ordered to shun the sight of the accursed crew. Wherever heresy had been introduced, the priests were, on Sundays and festivals, at the hour when the churches were best filled, solemnly to publish the excommunication. They were to carry away the vessels and ornaments of the altar, and lay the cross upon the ground; twelve priests, with torches in their hands, were to kindle them and dash them down with violence, and extinguish them by trampling them with their feet; then the bishop was to publish the condemnation of the impious men; all the bells were to be rung; the bishops and priests were to pronounce anathemas and maledictions, and preach forcibly against Luther and his adherents.
Twenty-two days had elapsed since the excommunication had been published at Rome, and it was perhaps not yet known in Germany, when Luther, learning that there was again some talk of calling him to Worms, addressed the Elector in a letter written in such terms that Frederick might communicate it to the Diet. Luther wished to correct the erroneous impression of the princes, and frankly explain to this august tribunal the true nature of a cause which was so much misapprehended. “I rejoice with all my heart, most serene lord,” said he, “that his imperial majesty means to bring this affair under consideration. I call Jesus Christ to witness that it is the cause of Germany, of the Catholic Church, of the Christian world, and of God himself, … and not of any single man, and more especially such a man as I. I am ready to repair to Worms, provided I have a safe-conduct, and learned, pious, and impartial judges. I am ready to answer, … for it is not in a spirit of rashness, or with a view to personal advantage, that I have taught the doctrine with which I am reproached; I have done it in obedience to my conscience, and to the oath which, as doctor, I took to the Holy Scriptures; I have done it for the glory of God, the safety of the Christian Church, the good of the German nation, and the extirpation of many superstitions, abuses, and evils, disgrace, tyranny, blasphemy, and impiety.” This declaration, in the solemn circumstances in which Luther made it, is deserving of our attention. We here see the motives which influenced him, and the primary causes which led to the renovation of Christian society. These were something more than monkish jealousy or a wish to marry.