1. The Flight from Wittenberg
“Old age is here,” so wrote Luther in a fit of depression to his Elector on March 30, 1544, in his sixty-first year; “old age which in itself is cold and ungainly, weak and sickly. The pitcher goes to the well until one fine day it breaks; I have lived long enough, may God grant me a happy deathbed.… Methinks, too, I have already seen the best I am like to see on earth, for it looks as though evil days were coming. May God help His own! Amen.” He recommends his sovereign to seek comfort in the “Dear Word of God” and in prayer, assuring him: “These two unspeakable treasures shall never be the portion of the devil, the Turk, or of the Pope and his followers.”[1272]
About this time he had to complain of palpitations, dizziness and calculus. His will he had already drawn up on Jan. 6, 1542.[1273] In it he refused to make use of the usual legal forms, being determined to have nothing to do with the lawyers, with whom he was always at variance. He was quite aware that lawyers still insisted on the objections to the validity of the marriages of clerics and monks and the rights of inheritance of their children, as they indeed were bound to do not only by Canon Law but also by the law of the Empire.
How cheerfully he was inclined to look forward to death even the year before is apparent from a letter to Myconius, “the bishop of the Churches of Gotha and Thuringia,” who was then lying seriously ill; here he says: “I pray our Lord Jesus not to call to everlasting rest you and our followers and leave me here among the devils to be still longer tormented by them. Truly I have been long enough plagued by them and really I deserve that my turn should come before yours. Hence my prayer is: May the Lord lay your illness upon me and rid me of my earthly habitation which is so useless, worn-out and exhausted. I see right well that I am no longer good for anything.”[1274]
After his above farewell-letter to the Elector Luther’s thoughts reverted to death more frequently than before. He cast up the books he had still to write and took stock of his powers to see whether he would have time to finish them. For his energy and spirit of enterprise were by no means yet dead, though at times they seem to be paralysed. Often enough he pulls himself together in his letters sufficiently to make jokes with his friends, the better both to banish his own gloomy thoughts and to inspire the addressees with greater courage and confidence. Nevertheless, through it all, we can detect his disquiet and suffering.
“You often importune me,” so he wrote to his pupil Anton Lauterbach about the end of 1544, “for a work on ecclesiastical discipline, but you do not tell me where I am to find the leisure and health, seeing that I am a worn-out and idle old man. I am ceaselessly snowed under with letters. I have promised the young princes a sermon on drunkenness, others and myself I have promised a book on secret marriages, others again, one against the Sacramentarians; some now want me to set all else aside and write a ‘Summa’ and running gloss on the whole Bible. Thus one thing stands in the way of the other and I get through nothing. And yet I had imagined that, as one who had already done his work, I had earned the right to some leisure, and to live quietly and in peace and so pass away. But I am compelled to pursue my restless way of life. Well, I shall do what I can, and, what I can’t, I shall leave undone.… Pray for us as we do for you.”[1275]
In Jan., 1545, when he had almost completed his long and arduous work on Genesis, he sighed: “May God put an end to this moribund and sinful life as soon as this book is finished, or even before should it please Him; do you ask God this for me.… Yes, truly, pray for my happy dissolution and that I may die a good death.”[1276] “Pray for me,” he wrote to Amsdorf in May of the same year, “that I may be set free as soon as may be from my fetters and be united to Christ, but that, if my life, or rather my sickness, is to last still longer, God may bestow on me strength of body and force of soul.” He praises God that he himself and his friends, “though unworthy sinners, had been chosen for this blessed and glorious office, viz. to hear the voice of God’s Majesty in the Word of the Evangel; on this the angels and all creation wish us luck, but the Pope is dismayed and all the gates of hell shake.”[1277]
Luther’s extant letters covering the period from May to December, 1545, afford us an insight into the emotions through which he passed.
From the month of May onwards he sank deeper and deeper into a dreary state of annoyance and sadness, and, at last, at the end of July, he shook the dust of Wittenberg from his feet. In the latter half of August, after he had allowed himself to be persuaded to return, his spirits rapidly revived, and such was the reaction that his new mystical ardour knew no bounds while his exertions seem almost incredible.
To take the period in question in its chronological order: The month of May commenced with a bitter attack on Agricola, and, on the latter’s arrival at Wittenberg, he refused even to see him. “Of this monster,” he wrote on May 2, “I will hear nothing but words of condemnation; of him and his friends may I be rid for all eternity.… Satan may rage and boast as he pleases!”[1278] His annoyance, as is usual with him, is speedily transferred to Satan. That same day, plagued with a tiresome matrimonial dispute, he asked: “Is then the devil master of the world?”[1279] Shortly after he declared the Pope to be the “monster of Satan, the end of whose days was at hand.”[1280] His joy at the approaching end (“gaudeamus omnes in Domino”) is, however, not unmixed. The thought depresses him that the devil should still be active even at Halle which had recently been won over to the Evangel, and that he had there “just blessed, or rather cursed, two nuns, thereby proving how much more he fain would do.”[1281]
Annoyance at the bad treatment of his preachers also lets loose a flood of complaints. “In many places,” so he laments, “they are treated very ill so that they are minded to depart and are even compelled to take flight.”[1282] The hostility of the politicians at Court and the lawyers, was also a cause of profound grief to him.[1283]
With greater apprehension than usual he saw at the beginning of June terrifying natural portents and prayed with passionate longing for the “overthrow of all things” which he was confidently awaiting.[1284]
Already in spirit he saw the sparks of the coming conflagration which was to consume Germany for her chastisement, “before the outbreak of which may God deliver us and ours from this misery!”[1285]
In July anger at the “contempt of the Word on our side and the blasphemy of our foes,”[1286] the sad sight of the want of unity and growing number of sects in his own camp, where “each one insists on following his own ideas,”[1287] the “decline of learning” amongst his followers, where “many bellies are set only on feeding themselves,”[1288] all this combined with other experiences tended to make his depression unendurable. To be obliged to set in order the public worship spelt a positive torture to him.[1289] Even in his own household he had cause for bitter disappointment in his niece Magdalene who had insisted on making love to a man (whom she was ultimately to marry) of whom Luther did not approve, thus giving Satan an opportunity for “maliciously attacking” Luther’s good name.[1290]
Yes indeed, “Satan rules,” he said to Amsdorf, in a letter of July 9, “and all have lost their wits.”[1291] Here the cause of his vexation was the Emperor, who, so he had been told, was insisting that the Protestants should attend the Council of Trent and submit to it. It is true Luther does not give up all hope of God again making a mockery of Satan,[1292] but, in the meantime, he execrates and curses the Council.[1293] He also vents his wrath on the Emperor, Ferdinand the German King, the King of France and the Pope. And why? Because he was only too ready to give credence to a report which had reached him that they had despatched ambassadors to the Grand Turk with gifts and an offer of peace, and that, clothed in long Turkish garments, they were humbling themselves before the infidel.[1294] “Are these Christians? They are hellish idols of the devil. Yet I hope they are at the same time a glad token of the coming of the end of all things. Let them worship the Turk, but let us call upon the true God, Who will humble both them and the Turk in the Day of His Coming.”[1295]
He is still suffering from the after-effects of the excitement in which he had, as he says, penned his “book brimful of bitter wrath, against the Papal monster,” viz. his “Against the Popedom founded by the Devil.” He has not the strength left to write a sequel to it, but he tells his friend Ratzeberger: “I have not yet done justice either to myself or to the greatness of my anger; I know too that I can never do full justice to it, so great and boundless is the enormity of the Papistic monster.” In such a frame of mind he feels keenly that he is the “trump heralding the Last Judgment.”[1296]
He is conscious, however, that his trump cannot peal loud enough in the world (“parum sonamus”) owing to his state, borne down as he is by pains of body and soul. He was unable to summon up the force to write either the continuation of his work against the Pope, or even the short reply to the Swiss which he had promised Amsdorf.[1297]
The above false report of the Christian embassy to Turkey current at Wittenberg he was at once ready to accept because it was in keeping with his pessimistic outlook. The evil spirits of suspicion, distrust and the mania of persecution made his unhappy mind willing to credit everything that was unfavourable, and even embittered the life of those about him. Melanchthon in particular suffered under this mood owing to his disposition to find a modus vivendi with the Swiss, whilst all the while concealing his leanings under a prudent and timid silence.[1298]
“The wild and immoral life at Wittenberg, a town so greatly favoured by God,”[1299] and the danger this spelt to the good name of the whole of Luther’s work stung him now more keenly than ever before. Of his own remorse of conscience we hear nothing at this time; his letters even to his intimates, usually so communicative, are silent as to any temptations or inward conflicts with the devil. There is no doubt that public affairs were then weighing more heavily on him, for instance the troubles arising from the Hessian bigamy. He was now again suffering from calculus. “I would dearly like to die,” he writes, “a plague on these excruciating pains! If, however, it is the Will of God that I succumb to them, He will give me grace to endure them and to die, if not sweetly, at least bravely!”[1300]
When his physical sufferings diminished there came to his mind the recollection of how, more than a year before, early in 1544, he had determined to leave Wittenberg, of which he had sickened, in order to seek a more peaceful life elsewhere. It was only the extraordinary exertions of his friends that had then succeeded in keeping him back. Bugenhagen and the other preachers, the University and the magistrates, had besought him with tears and entreaties. On that occasion he was “incensed,” so Cruciger, his friend and pupil, says, “at some trivial matter, or rather he was full of suspicion about us all, as I believe.”[1301] Already in 1530, and again in 1539, he had declared that, owing to the annoyance given him, he would never again mount the pulpit at Wittenberg.[1302] Now, however, his chagrin was even deeper and he resolved to carry out his plan prudently and quit the town for ever.
Without acquainting even Catherine Bora of the length of his absence from the town he left Wittenberg at the end of July accompanied by his son Hans, his guest Ferdinand von Maupis, travelling with Cruciger, who was to decide a quarrel between Medler and Mohr, the two Naumburg preachers at Zeitz, on July 27. Luther also repaired to Zeitz and took part in the negotiations, but instead of returning with Cruciger to Wittenberg, he wrote a letter to Katey from Zeitz on the 28th,[1303] stating that he had no intention of returning to Wittenberg. “My heart has grown cold so that I no longer like being there; I advise you to sell the garden and courtyard, the house and stabling; then I would make over the big house [the old monastery in which Luther used to live] to my gracious Lord, and it would be best for you to settle down at Zulsdorf [i.e. on her own little property] while I am yet alive.”[1304] He hoped, he goes on, that the Elector would continue to pay him his stipend as professor, “at least during the last year of his life.”
From the letter it is plain that it was annoyance at the decline of morals in the town rather than any strained relations with his friends at Wittenberg that drove him to this sudden decision. “Let us begone out of this Sodom!” he writes and hints that, in addition to the disorders with which he was already acquainted fresh scandals had reached his ears on this journey; the “government,” i.e. the authorities, aroused his deepest indignation. “There is no one to punish or restrain, and besides this the Word of God is derided”; maybe the town “will catch the Beelzebub-dance, now that they have begun to uncover the women and girls [an allusion to the low-cut dresses] in front and behind.” “So I will wander about and rather eat the bread of charity than allow my last days to be tortured and upset by the disorderly life at Wittenberg and see all my hard work brought to nought. You may tell Dr. Pommer and Master Philip of this if you please,” he concludes, “and see whether Dr. Pommer will bid farewell to Wittenberg for me, for I can no longer contain my anger and annoyance.”
The Wittenberg notabilities were filled with consternation on hearing of what Luther had done; they could not regard it as a mere passing whim, for they knew Luther’s determination. The University made representations in writing to the Elector, begging him to intervene to prevent such a misfortune; the foes of the Evangel would rejoice at the departure of the great teacher, other professors would leave, and the result would be new dissensions.[1305] As we know, Melanchthon, by his own account, was ready “to slink away.” Luther, so the University stated, like a new Elias, was the chariot and horseman of Israel and quite indispensable; if he wished any changes made and order established this would be done even should he find “fault with the teaching of some.” The University also sent Bugenhagen and Melanchthon to talk the matter over with Luther; the town despatched its burgomaster and the Elector sent him his own medical attendant, Ratzeberger, with a friendly letter.[1306]
In the meantime Luther had left Zeitz and gone on to Merseburg, whither he had been invited by George of Anhalt, formerly canon of the chapter there. The latter had gone over to Protestantism, and, when the bishopric was sequestrated in 1541 by a secular prince—August, the brother of Duke Maurice of Saxony—was appointed “spiritual administrator” of the see. He now wanted to be formally “consecrated” by Luther as bishop of Merseburg. To this the latter readily agreed. On Aug. 2, with the assistance of Jonas, Pfeffinger and others he reiterated the ceremonial which he had once before performed on Amsdorf at Naumburg (above, vol. v., p. 194).
The festivities at Merseburg, the kindness and hospitality of which he was the recipient at Lobnitz and Leipzig, and, lastly, the change of air and surroundings brought Luther to a much better frame of mind.
The messengers from Wittenberg found him at Merseburg. After they had seen him and listened to his stern admonitions, they were delighted to receive his assurance that, after all, he would return to Wittenberg. His resolve had, in fact, been merely the result of strong excitement. Now, moreover, not only had the depression ceased of which he had so long been the victim but a notable change of mood had supervened and his confidence and courage had been restored. Such sudden changes are not without their parallel in Luther’s earlier life, as has been sufficiently shown above.
He now returned in a better temper to Leipzig, where he preached a vigorous sermon on Aug. 12, and was there entertained by Camerarius, Melanchthon’s confidant; he also “associated with his circle of friends in the best of humours.”[1307]
After his return to Wittenberg on the 16th we hear no more of his vexation, though he did not put much faith in the disciplinary measures that had been drawn up for the town, notwithstanding that they were backed by the Elector; the Court itself, so he wrote, read nothing and only scoffed at everything.[1308]
He now threw himself once more into the struggle with his theological foes. A glance at these labours and at his lectures shows him working at high pressure, while, as his letters show, he retained his sense of humour.
He set to work immediately on the 32 articles which the Louvain Faculty of Theology had published with the object of enlightening Catholics on the nature of the Protestant doctrines.
Already in Aug. he had set up his 76 theses “Against the Articles of the Theologists of Louvain.”[1309] Here he does not take his opponents seriously, but, for the most part, simply pours forth his annoyance on them and their theses, sneering at them and scourging them with coarse invective. He calls them arch-idolaters, a school of blockheads, lazy bellies and rude asses, the accursed, hellish brew of Louvain; speaks of their mad, raving conceit; they are bloodthirsty incendiaries and fratricides, a stinking cesspool, a school of obscenity and muck, are these great, gross epicurean swine of Louvain. “They come straight from hell and teach what they have seen in the Mirror of Marcolfus,[1310] i.e. the ordure of man-made laws.” “For, instead of giving the people Holy Scripture, they do nothing else but cack, spew, belch forth and fling human filth amongst them.… And thus Holy Church is to be looked upon as no better than a latrine for the scamps of Louvain wherein they, playing the lord, may void their belly when over-full, and where, moreover, they slay and lay waste. This indeed may be termed foolery and raving!”[1311] The strange elation in which Luther penned so odd-sounding a “reply” is, again, not to be explained by any ordinary psychology.
In Sep. Luther commenced a work on a larger scale against the Louvain theologians and their Paris colleagues, which, however, he was not able to finish. The fragment “Against the Donkeys in Paris and Louvain,” which exists in two drafts, shows plainly enough what sort of book it would have been had death not interrupted his work. He urges that, whoever wishes to teach theology whilst refusing to acknowledge the truths taught by him concerning the Law, sin and Grace, is as well fitted to do so as an ass is to play upon the harp, as the Papacy is to govern the Church, or as the Louvain scholars to promote the cause of learning.[1312] In this work he fancied he had recovered his olden stormy vigour. To his friend Jacob Probst he candidly admitted: “I am more angry with these Louvain quadrupeds than beseems me, an old man and so great a theologian; but I want it to be said of me that I took the field against these monsters of Satan, even though it should cost me my last breath.”[1313]
He was busy at the same time on a revised edition of his Latin “Chronology of the World,” of which the aim was to show the near advent of Christ.[1314] On Oct. 16 he finished his Latin Commentary on the Prophet Osee, and sent a copy as a gift to Mohr, the dismissed pastor of Zeitz, with a kindly letter of religious consolation and encouragement.[1315] He also despatched a lengthy circular to the printers on the capture of Duke Henry of Brunswick, the enemy of the Evangel; this letter is a monument to his aggressiveness so nearly verging on the fanatical;[1316] in this he had been strengthened by the supposed intervention of heaven on his behalf against Henry and against the Pope and the Mass.[1317]
His intimate correspondence was also steeped in the new enthusiasm which had laid hold on him. “What a joyful victory has God, Who hearkens to our prayer, given us,” so he wrote on Oct. 26 to Jonas. “Let us believe and let us pray! He is faithful to His promises!… O God, do Thou maintain our joy, or, rather, Thine Own Glory!”[1318]
The jokes we had missed for a while now once more made their appearance in his letters. In the first epistle written after his return he hastens to tell Amsdorf of Mutian’s reading of the inscription “Soli Deo gloria” (viz. “To the Sun-God be glory”) on a tower belonging to the Archbishop of Mayence; after all the “Satan of Mayence” was perhaps right, so he says, in having the inscription taken down.[1319] In another letter he cheerfully relates the old tale of the peasant who, with hands devoutly folded, said to Satan: “Thou art my Gracious Master the Devil.”[1320] He is also delighted to be able to tell the story of a Popish preacher, who, before the war, exhorting the people to pray for the Duke of Brunswick, had said: “If he is worsted then 14 parsons will be had for the price of a penny.”[1321]
His last lecture was delivered just before Christmas, 1545, when he ended his exposition of Genesis. At its close he said: “Here you have our dear Genesis; God grant that, after me, someone may do it better; I am weak and can go on no longer; pray that God may grant me a happy deathbed.”[1322] But his “weakness” was merely temporary. A little after he wrote: “Whoever must fall let him fall if he refuses to listen to the Son of God. We pray and look for the day of our deliverance and destruction of the world with its pomps and wickedness. Would that it come speedily. Amen. I have taken the field against the donkeys of Louvain and Paris, but, nevertheless, feel pretty well, considering my advanced years.”[1323]
Impelled by the ardent desire to do something for the furtherance of peace within his camp, in spite of his bodily weakness and his distaste for worldly business, he undertook at the request of Count Albert of Mansfeld to act as arbiter in the dispute between the latter and his brother and nephew concerning the royalties from the mines and certain other legal claims.
“My time is entirely taken up,” so he says, “with affairs which do not in the least interest me; I must serve the belly and the table.”[1324] Already at the beginning of October these matters had induced him, with Melanchthon and Jonas, to proceed to Mansfeld. As soon as his course of lectures was finished, viz. at Christmas, he again repaired thither, in spite of the severity of the weather, again accompanied by Melanchthon, who was inclined to grumble at being called upon to listen to the squabbles of quarrelsome people. Luther, however, as he wrote to Count Albert, wished to see the “beloved lords of his native land reconciled and on good terms” before “laying himself to rest in his coffin.”[1325] He returned to Wittenberg shortly after Christmas, owing to Melanchthon’s falling ill.
These two journeys to Mansfeld, afterwards to be followed by a third and last, have, by controversialists, wrongly been made out to have been due to Luther’s desire to escape from Wittenberg on account of his bitter experiences there.